Signal Fire
by Rabidnar
Summary: Unfortunate circumstances bring Thirteen and Cameron closer. Beta'd By: Vanamo
1. Signal Fire

Story Posted: 12-01-09  
Story Edited: 6-11-12

**Disclaimer: **I don't own House! If I did, Cadley obviously would have been a storyline!

**Note: **This story is written in second person, which I normally despise, but please give it a chance before you decide not to read it because of it's POV. I promise, the POV is fitting for the story.  
**Rating: **This story is rated M for mentions of rape, but it does not contain explicit sexual detail. I've attempted to keep this story as tasteful as possible.  
**Date: **As of today, 6-11-12, this story has 770 reviews. I would love nothing more than for it to reach 1,000. So, if you're reading, it would mean the world to me if you would review and let me know what you think. My reviewers have played a huge part in this story, and even though it's over, still mean the world to me. I'm also going through this story and trying to edit typos and fix where FF deleted my scene-changing lines.  
Also, I am making chapter titles!  
**Beta: **Vanamo

Enjoy!

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**SIGNAL FIRE**_  
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**CHAPTER** **ONE**  
**Signal Fire  
**_In the confusion and the aftermath, you are my signal fire._

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"No one else is available she might feel comfortable with," House tells you as you stand outside the hospital room. You know Cuddy is gone for the night and won't be coming back because Rachel has a cold and her babysitter bailed. The nurses are consumed by an accident that put the ER in a frenzy and you're the only other female doctor that Cameron has ever really spoken to – even if it was only for five seconds. You stare at the floor in an unsure manner. It's not the first time you've ever dealt with someone who's been raped, but it's the first time you've dealt with it happening to someone you know.

"Page me if you need me." With that, House walks away. His voice is cold and lacking in emotion, but you know he's not as apathetic about the situation as he seems. You can tell by the look in his eyes and by the way he moves a little slower than what he usually does. Even if you need him, you know you probably won't page him. He's not the comforting type. Although neither are you.

"Cameron." You say her name softly so as not to startle her as you enter the room. She's not looking at you and you feel at a loss for words. She looks a mess. Her hair is covering her face, but you can still see the tear stains. You're shocked anyone could convince her to put a hospital gown on because she's rigid and hugging her knees like she's disallowing access to any part of her body. "Allison," you try out her first name. It sounds right under the circumstances.

Her eyes shift your way, but only for a moment. She glances at you with a shameful look then hides her face against her legs. She reminds you of an innocent puppy cowering in the corner with its tail between its legs. "You don't have to hide from me." You know your words are useless. You shut the door behind you then walk over to the bed and place the supplies your holding on the table.

"I thought nobody was going to come," she whispers in a raspy voice, so quietly you can barely hear her. "He pulled me from my car. I couldn't - I didn't know where I was."

You feel uncomfortable. You doubt you'd be the person she chose to tell this to if she was thinking straight. You sit down on the edge of the bed and place your hands on your lap, watching her but occasionally glancing around so it's not like you're staring.

"I can't feel anything." She lifts her head slightly and looks at you.

"It's shock," you explain, avoiding her eyes. Her brokenness is enough to make even you hurt and you barely know her. "Let's just get this over wi-"

"I wasn't strong enough." Her voice cracks and she hides her face from you again. "I just - If I could have -" Her voice trails off and she coughs a few times.

"Don't even start that shit, Allison." The emotion comes out of nowhere and the words slip out before you can stop them. "You know not to even think like that." You get to your feet again and force yourself to be calm, unsure of what set you off. You're usually so collected. "You're going to need to put your legs down," you tell her softly and place a hand on her shoulder. You expect her to shove you away but you're shocked when she leans into your touch. You rub her shoulder gently for a moment then put your hand on her knee. "It's okay," you assure her when she flinches. You know it isn't 'okay', but you can't think of anything else to say.

"I want a shower." She tries to push your hand away from her knee but quickly gives up when she realizes you don't plan on moving it.

"Not right now," you reply, trying to be as gentle with her as possible. "Are you hurt anywhere?" You doubt she let anyone close enough to her to mark down any injuries in her chart.

"I don't want to do this." She coughs more and shakes her head. "I need a shower," she begs. With shaking hands, she rubs at her runny nose then accepts the tissue you hand her.

"The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can shower," you promise her. You gently rub her knee, trying to coax her into lowering her legs.

"I need a shower!" She smacks your hand away then appears as shocked by her sudden outburst as you feel. She stares at you, breathing heavily. Then in a matter of seconds, her face contorts and it's a struggle for her to hold back from crying. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, trying to hide from you again. "I'm so sorry. Thirteen, it hurts!" She slips into a coughing fit and lifts her head again to cover her mouth with her arm.

It's then you notice she's sweating. You had thought the shaking was from the trauma, but now that you watch her, it looks more like she's shivering. You remember two days ago when you were in the locker room and overhead Cuddy scolding her and telling her she shouldn't be working when she's sick. You try to think if you've seen her since then. You place one hand on her back and the other on her forehead. "Damn," you whisper. "You're burning up." You hit the button for a nurse.

She leans into your hand and you move it from her forehead and touch her cheek, using your cold fingers to give her some sort of relief from the fever. "Where were you going this sick?"

"To Chase's house," she whispers, a tear falling down her cheek as she closes her eyes.

You wipe the tear away with your thumb. You think your hand is starting to get warm so you pull it away and replace it with the other one. She sighs. You shake your head. "You didn't call him you pick you up?"

"I didn't want to be any more of an inconvenience." She opens her eyes and glances up at you then turns her head in the direction of the door as a nurse approaches. She looks ready to sink down against the back of the bed and disappear.

"I just need a fever reducer." You stop the nurse in her tracks before she can even get more than halfway into the room. You shoo her away with a hand motion then focus your attention back on Cameron. You've never seen someone look so terrified. "We need to get this over with."

"No." She shakes her head and pulls her legs closer then buries her face against them. "I don't want to. I need a shower. Please." She starts coughing again. "Please."

You let out a breath and glance toward the door as the nurse returns. "Thanks." You take the cup of pills from her and watch her walk away. After making sure the door shuts behind her, you grab a cup of water and crouch down beside the bed. "This will make you feel better."

She slowly reaches out her hand and you dump the pills on her shaking palm. "Careful," you tell her gently, not wanting a reason for the nurse to have to come back. You watch sympathetically as she struggles to get the medicine into her mouth then reaches for the water. "Let me help." You cup her chin and carefully place the cup up to her lips, tilting it back just enough so she can drink without choking. Water runs down her chin and onto your hand and you simply wipe it off on your pants once you pull the cup away.

"Thanks," she mumbles. Her voice is so hoarse it sounds like she's about to lose it.

You nod. You gently try to straighten her legs again, but they won't budge. "Listen," you say gently. "You can get a shower in a little while. I can't give you a choice on this." You gently stroke her legs until it seems she trusts you enough to slowly lower them until they're straight on the bed. Somehow, you doubt that it's really trust. You figure she just really wants that shower and you don't blame her.

"I was so scared," she whispers, her voice fading in and out. She looks straight ahead as you slip on a pair of gloves. She sniffles and lowers her head slightly. "It was dark and nobody heard me."

You don't know how to respond so you stay silent. She doesn't even cry as you do the test. You can tell it hurts her by the way she flinches and occasionally goes rigid, but she's silent. You can see the breakdown coming. No one is that strong, especially not Cameron. Her feelings are practically made of mush. As the nurse comes in to take the test to the lab, Cameron curls herself back up.

"Let me help you to the shower." The room you're in doesn't have one and you're not sure what other rooms are open. The showers in the locker room are better anyway. You help her as she slowly gets to her feet, sliding an arm around her waist to support her. She stands stiffly at first then relaxes when she seems to realize you're not going to hurt her. You're thankful the hospital is relatively slow tonight as you exit the room and enter the hall. Cameron isn't some kind of entertainment they can add to the gossip mill.

Her hands grips your shirt and she follows directly as your side, occasionally getting close enough to almost trip you. Four nurses and a lab technician pass you, but none of them do anything more than seem to glance. You can feel their eyes piercing through the two of you once they're behind your backs though. Neither you nor Cameron turn to confirm their stares. Fifteen minutes is how long you guess it'll take for the entire hospital to know. One minute after that, House will find those who are talking and shove his cane down their throats. You almost smile because you know no matter how much he wants to pretend he doesn't care, he really does.

No one is in the locker room when the two of you enter. "Which locker is yours?" you ask.

"I don't have my key." She glances down at her hands then looks off to the side.

"That's okay. I have mine." You walk to your own locker and open it. It's a bit of a mess, but you manage to find body wash and a washrag. You don't have a towel, but you're sure you can get one from a supply closet while she's showering. "Here." You hand her the items then walk her to the showers. "Do you need me to stay right outside?"

She shakes her head and walks toward one of the showers.

"I'm going to find you a towel, but yell if you need me." You rub your hand up and down her back then turn and walk away. Part of you thinks it's a bad idea to let her there alone, but it's only for a few moments. You'll get the towel and be back in no time.

"How is she?" House stops you right before you manage to get to the supply closet.

"I don't know," you answer, "I'm not a psychologist." You open the door and rummage through a few things before you pull out a towel. You wait for the smartass comment that's sure to follow, but instead there's silence. Turning to look at House, you're shocked to see him just standing there staring at you. "She's strong."

He nods in agreement.

You walk past him without another word. You have no idea what to say to him. Letting out a long breath, you twist part of the towel tightly around your fingers. Part of you wonders why the hell you ever agreed to work extra hours tonight. You're quickly filled with guilt for even thinking like that. Frustrated with yourself, you push open the locker room door a little harder than you mean to. The shower water is running but the noise is almost completely drowned out by Cameron's sobbing. It had been a bad idea to let her there alone. You loosen your grip on the towel and jog over to the shower. "Allison, are you okay?"

When there's no answer, you open the first curtain and walk inside the small area. You place the towel down beside her clothes then turn to face the second curtain. "If you don't answer, I'm going to pull the curtain," you warn her. When she just continues to cry, you hesitate and regret the threat. Feeling like you have no choice, you slowly push the curtain to the side. Your heart shatters into a million pieces at the sight of her. She's sitting on the shower floor under the steaming water, rubbing every part of her body raw.

"I can't stop feeling him," she sobs, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't get the feeling off!" She sobs and begins to scrub harder at one of her shoulders. "Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" She panics and begins to gasp for breaths, pressing herself back against the shower wall.

"Okay," you whisper. You suddenly feel like you're not even thinking anymore. The scalding water begins to soak through your clothes as you kneel down beside her. "Let me help." You grab her hand and ease the washrag from her grip before she can make herself bleed with it. Examining the shoulder she had been washing, you cringe at the bite marks on her skin. "Let me help," you repeat. Your wet hair is sticking to your face and you push it out of your eyes then pull her closer to you.

She lets you wash every part of her. You attempt to hand the rag back so she can get certain areas, but her arms hang limply beside her and she doesn't even bother. Sobs rack her body and she occasionally goes into coughing fits so bad that once she almost vomits. Her head lulls against your shoulder and she clings to your shirt like she's afraid you're going to abandon her as soon as she lets go.

"It's off." You realize she can probably still feel him, but the verbal reassurance seems to help her. The water is burning your skin and you worry that with her fever it's going to overheat her. With one arm wrapped tightly around her, you reach up and turn off the water. She doesn't seem to care. She appears to be more focused on trying to soak up comfort from you.

"Let's get you dried off." It's a struggle to get her to her feet. Her legs don't seem to want to support her. It takes almost a full two minutes for you to get her out of the shower. Somehow you end up sitting on the bench next to her clothes with her on your lap. You unfold the towel and wrap it around her then hold her tightly. It feels almost like you're taking care of a little kid. She's still sobbing so you rub her back through the towel and just sit there with her for several moments. Maternal instincts you never even knew you had kick in. You nonchalantly use the corner of the towel to wipe her nose as she sniffles then rock her until she's not crying so hard.

This is the Thirteen nobody ever sees. You're not even Thirteen now. You're not focused on being distant or trying to put up walls that Cameron will never be able to get past. Right now, you're just Remy. "We should get dressed." She's wrapped in a warm towel, but your clothes are soaked and you're freezing. You help her to her feet then lead her back to your locker. No one is around so you walk over to the locker room door and lock it. You can feel her staring at you as she sits down on the bench in front of your locker.

"I don't know what clothes I have in here," you say. You never really bother keeping extra clothes at the hospital, but now you realize maybe you should. You open the door and go through your things. You have a pair of scrubs, sweat pants, and your favorite hoodie. "Here." You hand her the pants and hoodie then put the scrubs down on the bench in front of you.

You pretend not to notice as she buries her face against your hoodie. "Are you okay if I change here?" You're shivering as you grip the bottom of your shirt and wait for her approval. When she nods, you pull off your wet clothes and leave them as a pile on the floor. You can deal with them later. Pulling on the scrubs, you watch her change out of the corner of your eye just to make sure she's okay.

"I should go home now, shouldn't I?" she asks. She wraps her arms around herself and grips the fabric of your hoodie, clinging to it tightly.

"I'm going to admit you until I make sure your fever is down," you answer. There's no way you're letting her go home like that. You think about taking her to your house, but you can take care of her better in the hospital. You put your hand on her back as she starts coughing again. "Robitussin or Delsym? I'll page a nurse."

"Neither." She shakes her head and inches over so she can lean against you.

"You have to take something. You sound awful and your throat probably feels like it's being torn apart, doesn't it?" You page the nurse to take Delsym to Cameron's room. It works well and tastes so much better. "You should lie down."

She lets her head rest against your side for a moment then nods. She doesn't move until you help her up then she follows directly by your side. Her hand occasionally finds its way to gripping your arm but she always pulls away a second later. You take her hand and lace your fingers, stroking her hand with your thumb. You can't even remember the last time you had held hands with someone.

"Your shift is probably over." She glances at the clock as you enter her room. The disappointment and fear seems to etch itself onto her face and she's caught between repeatedly tightening and loosening her grip on your hand.

"That's okay. I planned on sticking around anyway." In reality, you had plans to curl up on your couch with scotch and LOST reruns, but she doesn't need to know that. You take the medicine from the nurse once she arrives then walk Cameron over to the bed. "Take this." You sit down beside her and hand her the small cup of cough medicine.

She pouts and mumbles something about it being disgusting but takes it anyway. She swallows it then scrunches up her face.

You roll your eyes. "It's not that bad." Doctors always make the worst patients. You take the cup and place it on the table. Grabbing the thermometer, you take her temperature and frown when it beeps at 101.6. The fever reducer would have worked better if the shower water hadn't been so hot. You toss the thermometer onto the stand where it'll be within reach. Swinging your legs up and onto the bed, you scoot back and lean against the pillows.

"What are you doing?" She stares at you then hesitantly moves so she's beside you and grabs your hand again.

"It's going on 11:30," you answer. "What do you think I'm doing? If you want me to move…"

"Don't move." The words come out a little too quickly and she looks terrified that you might leave.

"I'm not going to." You pat the spot beside you then envelope her protectively in your arms once she lays down. Every time you try to find a more comfortable position, she tenses up and her grip on you tightens. You both finally settle when you're on your sides facing each other. Cameron seems to fit perfectly in your arms. She rests her head under your chin and you can feel her breaths begin to even out.

You notice House peering in through the window on the door. You know he's there to only see how things are and he's not after your comfort like Cameron is, despite the obvious worry on his face. You pretend not to see him and as you grip the back of your hoodie and close your eyes. You doubt you'll get much sleep on the uncomfortable hospital bed, but you know you'll be there as many hours or even nights as Cameron needs you to be.


	2. Uncertainty

**Danny: **I have this thing I use on people called "The 3 Bs". Bribing, Begging, and Blackmail. You skipped right to begging...and it totally worked. Lol.  
**WrongObsession:** Glad you liked it. The shower scene was probably the hardest to write.  
**Nameless:** How else am I supposed to procrastinate with finals in like...2 weeks? And plus...I'm a review addict. I won't get reviews if I don't write. I don't think there will be a potential "relationship" in this fic. If there is, it won't be for a very very long time. It seems kinda...I don't know. It wouldn't sound right being all, "Oh...now Cameron's been scarred by a guy so she's gonna fall in love with Remy." Definitely a deep friendship tho.  
**Wonderous:** I'm glad that you liked this one. Yayyy.  
**Kirei28:** Well, it's not a oneshot anymore. xD  
**Dominus:** Glad you liked it...and that the 2nd person pov is working.  
**Angel's:** I'm glad you like my writing. I plan on continuing to write Cam/13 until y'all chase me away. Haha.  
**Quirkykirky:** Thank you so much for the review. I do now plan on continuing it.  
**Amazon:** I'm glad you like it. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Roronoa:** I'm glad you like it. I think my sadistic-ness attracts people. Baha. And wouldn't Camteenly be an adverb? xD -is a grammar nazi- We Americans do eat weird food. I alone eat weird food. Lol. And pumpkin roll is amazinggg! Though...nearly anything pumpkin flavored is amazing.  
**Ina:** I'm glad you liked it.  
**BattleKitten:** I'm glad you liked it and that I was able to draw you into it.  
**Vanamo:** I already talked to you, but...! Hopefully this won't get too unrealistic and I have no plans to graphically focus on the actual rape. I do love dark, but I have lines drawn for myself that I contently stay behind. Hopefully I can manage to keep them in character...'cause sometimes I forget and don't think. Heh.  
**Jess: **Well, thank you very very much for the review! I'm glad you liked it and how I portrayed the characters. It's hard to imagine them in such a situation, which makes it a bit hard to write.  
**YourDepressed: **H/C is like a guilty pleasure. Baha. Glad you liked it.

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**SIGNAL FIRE**

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**CHAPTER TWO**  
**Uncertainty**  
_I'm holding on until there's nothing left._

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**Cameron's POV:**

Sunlight is streaming through the cracks between the window and curtain when you open your eyes. You don't remember falling asleep but you're still completely exhausted. It feels like something has literally sucked all the energy right out of your aching body. You try to breathe in through your nose but it's all stuffy and breathing through your mouth makes you think someone has shoved cotton down your throat.

Thirteen is still beside you with her arms around you. Her chest is rising and falling at a steady pace, letting you know she's fast asleep. You snuggle closer against her and soak in the feeling of security she's providing for you. Never in your life have you considered yourself to be a clingy person, but you're suddenly scared to be away from her. Covering your mouth with your hand, you painfully cough a few times. Her hand rubs your back and you jump at the movement, your heart rate suddenly ten times faster.

"Mm." Thirteen shifts and traces a few designs on your back. "You're okay," she mumbles. Her hand slowly stops moving and she begins snoring quietly. You now vaguely remember waking her up multiple times throughout the night because you'd panic every time she moved.

Wrapping an arm around her, you cling to her sleeve up near her shoulder and rest your head just under her collarbone. It's impossible to go back to sleep because you really need to use the bathroom. You end up having a lengthy mental debate over how long you can stay like that and you determine a few hours. In reality, your bladder feels like it's going to burst five minutes later and you're forced to get up.

The floor is ice cold under your feet and you realize you never even put your shoes back on after taking a shower. They're probably still there unless someone moved them. Shifting repeatedly from one foot to the other, you hover by the bed and consider waking Thirteen. The thought you actually want her to get up and walk you to a bathroom that's probably less than five feet away is mortifying as soon as it sinks in. After one last glance at her, you let her sleep and walk hastily to the bathroom then shut the door behind you and lock it.

You're in there at least ten minutes because your reflection in the mirror distracts you just as you're about to leave. You look completely awful. Your hair is a mess and 'white as a sheet' really is a correct description of how pale your face is, minus the dark circles under your red, puffy eyes. Covering your mouth with your arm, you cough several times then turn on the sink water.

You think about Thirteen as you wait for the water to become a comfortable temperature. She probably hates you, you decide. The thought actually makes tears spring in to your eyes. Before yesterday, you may have spoken to her once a week, if that. Now, you're suddenly attached to her. You use your hands to cup the lukewarm water and rinse your face off. It honestly doesn't make you feel any better. There's no towel on the rack so you dry your face with your sleeve. Thirteen's hoodie smells just like her and you keep your arm by your face for a moment. It's hard to breathe in through your nose, but you try your best because even just her scent is comforting.

You suddenly want to be close to her again. You leave the bathroom and glance over at her. She's still sleeping and you wonder what time it is. You note that she's dangerously close to the edge of the bed but turn your back to her and face the clock. It's going on one in the afternoon. You can't believe you slept that long.

A loud crash behind you causes you to jump. You spin around and nearly fall over, pressing yourself back against the wall to support yourself. Your heart is suddenly racing and it's hard to breathe for a moment. After the brief second of terror passes, you stare down at Thirteen.

She swears under her breath and drapes her arm dramatically across her face as she lies sprawled out across the floor. The stand that was previously beside the bed is now just a metal bar on wheels. It's next to her and thankfully not on top of her and the wooden table part is about a foot away.

"Are you okay?" you croak. You stare at her with wide eyes and suddenly feel much more awake. Pressing your hand to your chest, you mentally try to convince your heart to slow to its normal pace.

"That _really_ hurt," she groans and presses the palms of her hands to her eyes. "I hate these hospital beds." She sits up and rubs her lower back then glances at you and suddenly looks less annoyed than she did a moment ago. "You're not going to laugh at me?" she asks, probably noticing the scared look on your face. "I know people who would pay to watch me fall out of bed while I'm sober."

You get the feeling she's trying to make you at least smile, but you can't. "You're sure you're okay?" You wrap your arms around yourself and sink back against the wall then slide down to the floor. Throat tickling, you close your mouth to muffle a few coughs.

"I think I should be asking you that." She runs her fingers through her hair then scoots over so she's sitting beside you. "Sorry if I practically gave you a heart attack. Trust me when I say I didn't mean to just…"

You look away.

"Hey." She places her hand on your arm.

You jump before you can stop yourself. "Sorry," you whisper.

"It's okay." She moves her hand. From the corner of your eye, you can see her place her hands on her lap. She pulls her knees up slightly and places her elbow on her leg then rests her head against her hand and watches you. "I'm going to be honest with you," she says after a moment. "I don't know what to do for you, Cameron."

You swallow a lump suddenly forming in the back of your throat. Tears fill your eyes and you're not sure if it's because she's not using your first name anymore or because you were secretly wishing she could make it all better. "I - I don't know what to do either," you whisper. You try to tell yourself people overcome this but it's useless because you can't comprehend how. You shrink away when she tries to touch you again. It's not fair because you'd give anything to be that close to her.

"We'll just go step by step," she replies. "You talked to the police yesterday right when you got to the hospital, right?"

You nod slowly. You hug your knees for a moment then cross your arms over them so you can rest your aching head forward.

"We don't have to worry about that then." There's a pause. "Here."

You lift your head and glance at the thermometer as she holds it toward you. For a moment you're still but then you decide checking your temperature is probably a good idea. After taking the thermometer, you put a new cover on it then hold it in your ear and wait for the beep. Closing your eyes, you rub your forehead with the palm of your free hand.

"Do you want to move back to the bed?" she asks.

You shake your head then move the thermometer so you can read your temperature. "100.7," you mumble out loud. Placing the thermometer on the ground, you turn your head away from her and cough several times. Your throat burns and the tears in your eyes threaten to overflow down your face. Your sinuses dripping down the back of your throat makes you feel sick to your stomach and you want to lie down, but at the same time, you don't want to move.

"I can give you the same medicine I gave you last night," she tells you. "Did those help? Oh, you know what? I can get you some Tylenol Cold and Flu Tablets. Do you want those instead?"

"I don't know." You press your hands to your eyes and lean forward. "I don't know." The two simple choices she gives you suddenly seem incredibly complicated. You don't want to make decisions. You want her to make the decisions. You realize you're probably causing her enough trouble just by keeping her there with you. All of a sudden, you can practically feel her discomfort radiating throughout the room and you can't decide whether your imagining it or not.

"Tylenol will work best," she says quickly. "Let me help you to the bed. The floor is freezing."

You shake your head. The floor _is _freezing and you're beginning to shiver. You hate how you react when she touches you now though and you're not sure you can stand. You hear the nurse at the door and listen to Thirteen's footsteps when she gets up and walks over. The thought she might leave crosses your mind and you quickly lift your head to watch her. Bad idea. The room spins and your headache gets worse.

Thirteen glances back at you and gives you a sympathetic smile. It's almost code for 'I'm not leaving you' instead of saying it out loud in front of the nurse. "Thanks," she tells the nurse as she takes the pills and a cup of water. She shuts the door once the nurse leaves then walks over and kneels down in front of you. "Hold this."

You take the water from her and try not to spill it as she peels the silver back off the pill package. You hold out your hand for the pill. It takes several swallows of water to make it go down your throat and you almost choke some of the water back up.

"Do you want more?" she asks then takes the cup of water from you when you shake your head. She gets to her feet and places it by the sink then grabs the blanket off the bed. "If you're not going to move, at least let me cover you up." She hands you the blanket then sits down in front of you and faces you.

You wrap the blanket around yourself and hug it tightly. "Now what?" you ask quietly. After a long moment of silence, you glance up at her. The intense look of pity on her face scares you. "W-what?"

"Maybe I should get a nurse in here to help you now." She swallows and looks away from you then slowly gets to her feet.

"Wait!" You stare at her in horror. You want her, not some nurse. "Wait. I - I…" You're trying to think of something to offer her to get her to stay. You're trying to think of some reason to convince her. Even though no tears fall, a few sobs manage to escape your lips. She must feel bad for you or something because she kneels in front of you again.

She lets out a breath and stares at the floor for a moment then looks up at you. "You're going to have to think about an ECP."

Your breath hitches in your throat. "What?" you barely manage to choke out the word.

"The morning aft-" she starts explaining.

"I know it what means," you cut her off. You can't believe getting pregnant never crossed your mind. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shake your head. "No."

"You should really think about this," she says. Her voice is hesitant and it's obvious she's struggling to find the right words.

"I don't need to think about it," you argue with her. "No."

"Do you really wa-"

"I said no! Stop talking about it!" You raise your voice at her as much as you can at the moment and she goes silent. You clench your jaw to stop yourself from apologizing. "I just…" Your voice lowers and you refuse to look at her. "Life is precious whether it's planned or not."

"It's a bundle of cells," she replies. "It's not a life yet. There's a good chance you're not pregnant. It's just a precaution."

You want to ask what part of 'stop talking about it' she doesn't understand. The thought you might be pregnant terrifies you even more than you already are. Sniffling, you wipe at your eyes to keep the tears from falling. "I said no," you reply firmly.

"You can think about it later," she replies even though you know you're not going to put anymore thought into the matter. She looks uneasy now. "I'm going to call you a psych consult."

"Why can't I talk to you?" you whisper. The startled look on her face gives you a range of emotions from disappointment to humiliation. Your mind fumbles for words, but you don't know what to say. Cheeks turning pink, you hide your face in your hands.

She clears her throat. "Do you have anyone from psych you'd like me to call?"

"This is it, right?" you try to confirm, glancing up at her. "You call psych then you forget I exist." She looks anxious and ready to dart out the door. You're filled with anger, but you're not angry at her. You're angry at yourself for putting her in this situation. The tears finally begin to spill down your face. "Thank you," you whisper sincerely. You scrunch up your face for a moment and squeeze your eyes shut. Devastation engulfs your heart and you wonder what you were thinking when you trusted she would stick around.

She closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. "I'm not going anywhere," she assures you, "I just think -" She stops and you assume it's because you're crying. "Allison, relax." She draws you closer and you don't want to fight her, but you do. You squirm to get away but she's a lot stronger than you are right now. She finally gets you close and holds you in the same position, unmoving, until you unclench and hide your face against her shoulder. Her fingers entangle in your hair as she places a hand on the back of your head.

You have a feeling she might be wondering what she got herself into. At least you're wondering what you got her into. "I'm sorry." You shake your head.

"It's okay," she answers. She seems to hesitate for a moment. "Maybe you want me to call Chase?"

It feels like she's trying to get rid of you even thought deep down you know she's only trying to help. You wonder if she thinks she isn't helping enough herself. The thought of your boyfriend disgusts you right now. The thought of any guy makes you feel sick. You want to say no, but you don't answer. You're getting more tired by the second and you turn your head to rest it more comfortably against her shoulder. The Tylenol package catches your eye and you clearly read the word 'nighttime'.

Thirteen seems to notice what you're looking at. She glances down at you and smiles sheepishly. "Guess I should have thrown that out, huh?" She turns and takes you with her then settles back against the wall and smoothes out the blanket you have wrapped around you.

You don't want to sleep but the fight to keep your eyes open takes too much effort. "You take too many lessons from House." you mumble, exhaustion causing your voice to slur slightly. She says something but you don't catch it because you're already dozing and you welcome unconsciousness rather gratefully.


	3. Disarray

**Angel's:** Glad you like how I'm portraying Cameron. I get a bit nervous as I think of the direction I'm going to take her character. And glad you liked poor Thirteen falling out of bed. Lol.  
**WrongObsession:** Ah. SATs...I remember those. -gag- Waking up attached to Thirteen...would be quite amazing. My bear from Crash Bang Boom might get a little jealous if I traded him for her though. Hopefully, I can keep it serious and not get carried away with stuff. I'm pretty good w/ psych stuff though.  
**Amazon:** Yus, I am going to continue this. I've never written anything quite like this before, so it's interesting to try and keep it going. Hopefully, I can keep it realistic. And yes...'cause SP is the most amazing band EVER. I was listening to Signal Fire as I typed and it got to the line, "In the confusion and the aftermath, you are my signal fire." I was like..."Huh. Totally fitting." Though really, this fic is very very loosely based off Near To You by A Fine Frenzy.  
**Less than 13:** Ew. History is icky. Essays are even ickier. Put them together and that's like...torture! I'm wondering what direction this is headed too...'cause I don't really know yet. I have some ideas...but they're few and far between. And if you think about it...a relationship just wouldn't work right now.  
**Wonderous:** Thanks!  
**Nameless:** Procrastinating is great. Sometimes I even procrastinate on procrastinating. I plan to keep writing as long as people keep reviewing.  
**JB (chapt 1):** I'm glad I'm managing to do 2nd person well. It's definitely a challenge to write.  
**JB (chapt 2):** I'm not sure how much I'm going to reveal about what really happened or if Thirteen will ever even find out. It's a possibility though.  
**Eva:** Thank you.  
**YourDepressed:** Patience is a virtue...that apparently neither of us were born with. Ha. And Cameron won't be okay for awhile.  
**Wesley: **Haha. I don't think I could take too much time. I get too impatient to post chapters for reviews. xD And don't worry...I have some fluffy moments planned.

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER** **THREE**  
**Disarray**  
_Everyone around me is trying to make a statement.  
__Then there's me.  
__I'm just trying to survive._

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

Sitting on the floor holding Cameron really isn't doing any good for your aching back, but you're slightly scared to move her. She looks so fragile and vulnerable curled up in your arms and something in you is demanding you keep her safe. The blanket has fallen off of her slightly and before you tuck it around her again, you stroke her arm a few times and wonder how anyone could ever want to hurt her. You don't know her very well but the longing to protect her is suddenly almost overwhelming. Unfortunately, you're not sure how to go about caring for her. The only thing you've ever looked after was a goldfish you won at a fair once and you accidentally overfed it within the first week.

She shifts in your arms and turns her face against your shoulder as she starts coughing. You rub your hand up and down her back and have a bad feeling that this is all going to end with you sulking in bed for a few days with the flu. Still coughing, she sobs a few times in her sleep and tries to sit up straighter.

"It's okay. Breathe, Sweetheart." You support her as she tries to get into a more upright position. The cup of water is still over at the sink and completely out of reach from your spot on the floor. The coughing eases up on its own and she sinks back down against you, quivering slightly. She makes a whining noise and wraps her arms around her chest.

"Shhh," you try to soothe her. You know she's hurting, but there's really not much you can do for her while you're both sitting on the floor. You slide one arm under her legs and the other across her back, hoping you don't wake her in your attempt to move her. Grunting quietly, you get to your feet. For someone so small, she's sure heavy enough. She's dead weight in your arms as you carry her to the bed then lay her down.

You consider lying down again with her but decide against it. It might make her feel better emotionally, but you know it won't do anything for her physically. You have to remind yourself that you're her doctor and not really her friend. That thought causes you to pause and think. Are the two of you friends? The simple answer is no, not really. You could probably count all the facts you know about each other on one hand. It's hard to decide whether you care about her or whether this is all just because of her dire need for someone to watch over her right now.

After grabbing the cup of water from the sink, you sit down beside her and carefully ease her into a sitting position that's supported by your arm and side. "Allison." You pat her cheek and she groggily opens her eyes. For a moment she looks disoriented but then she goes rigid. "It's just me," you assure her before she can panic. "You need to drink so you don't get dehydrated."

"Hm?" Her anxiety seems to be replaced by confusion again.

Her grogginess amuses you slightly, but you know right now it's more important that she drink than look cute. You hold the cup to her lips and tilt it slightly. "Swallow," you instruct warmly. "Good girl." You pull the cup back when all the water is gone and allow her to curl up at your side for a moment. Grasping her wrist, you make a mental note that her pulse in slightly elevated. The thermometer is still on the floor so you check her temperature by placing your hand on her forehead. Her skin is still warm but it's cooler than what it was last night at least.

"Thirteen?" She breathes out and grips your shirt, rubbing the fabric between her thumb and pointer finger for a moment.

"Yeah?" You glance down at her hand and think about holding it but you change your mind. There's silence and you soon realize she's fallen asleep again. You carefully pry her fingers from your shirt then ease her back down against the bed. You're nervous about leaving her there, but you can't stick around in one hospital room all day. House doesn't have any cases but he did assign you to an excess amount of paperwork. It's possible for you to do your paperwork in the room with Cameron, but you really need a break.

Hovering by the door, you come close to mentally exhausting yourself over whether or not you should leave.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"So what's it like having a friend?" House stops across the hall and leans on his cane.

"What?" You step outside the room and silently close the door behind you.

"I just figured that since you don't seem to have any, you might have some thoughts on Cameron," House replies. He shrugs then begins walking down the hall.

"I have friends." You don't really feel the need to prove yourself to him, but you need someone to talk to. "Plenty of them," you add as you follow him, "I just make sure they all avoid you." You smirk.

"Well, you don't have any friends at the hospital then," he answers and glances back at you, returning the smirk.

"I have Foreman," you answer a little too quickly because you see him at the other end of the hall.

"Foreman!" House calls.

You mentally hit yourself in the forehead and frown. "You don't have to -"

"Are you Thirteen's friend?" House asks as the two of you approach Foreman.

Foreman stares at you a moment. "We're coworkers," he answers and looks at House again. "Not friends."

"Thanks," you deadpan, "Big help."

"How's Cameron?" Foreman asks. He and House both turn to face you as if they're expecting some kind of easy answer.

"Does Chase know yet?" you reply, avoiding their question. You don't know what to say to them. Obviously, she's not okay, but you don't know how to put what she's feeling into words because you barely even know what she's feeling yourself.

"Have you seen him?" House asks.

"Well, no," you reply. "But I've been with Cameron since last -"

"Exactly. Maybe you should call him." House stops at the nurses' station and grabs a stack of papers. "You can do that while you're filling these out. After that, I need you to do my clinic duty."

"Why can't Foreman do your clinic duty?" you ask, taking the paperwork from him.

"Because I have a patient with Pulmonary Eosinophilia," Foreman answers. "He needs a gastric lavage to look for an ascaris worm."

"I'm sure someone else can do it," you reply. You turn to House. "If Cameron needs me, I won't be able to get to her as fast if I'm in the clinic."

"I see why you don't have any friends," House comments. "I applaud you for your ability to evade the clinic almost as well as me. Foreman, take clinic duty. Thirteen, go film your Lifetime movie."

You smirk and give Foreman a smug look. That's what he deserved, not that he being your friend really would have changed the situation. You feel a bit bad for using Cameron to get out of clinic duty but you're as much of a pro at evading guilt as you are at avoiding the clinic.

"Why didn't anyone call me?" The Australian accent practically echoes throughout the hall and all the nurses that were chatting around you go silent.

You turn to face Chase and run your fingers through your hair.

"I have clinic duty," Foreman says. He smirks back at you then walks away.

"I really don't have anything to do," House says, "but I'm sure you can weasel your way out of this too. See ya." He gives you a grin then follows after Foreman.

You're out of ideas and beginning to feel stressed out over the whole situation. "You're not on her emergency contacts," you answer calmly and walk past him as he storms toward you. He turns and follows you.

"Not on her -" Chase huffs and shakes his head. "Where is she?"

"She's sleeping," you answer. This conversation is getting old fast. You subconsciously glance at your pager then flip through the papers in your hand. "Do you have a pen?"

He gives you a flustered look and pulls a pen from his pocket them hands it to you. "I come to work and a _nurse _tells me my girlfriend has been…has been…" He doesn't seem able to say the word. "And all you can tell me is she's sleeping? Tell me what room's she's in."

You don't know what to do. This would be so much different if neither Cameron nor Chase were people you knew and worked with. Sighing, you come to a halt and turn to face him. "Look," you say, staring at him sympathetically, "She's scared stiff. I doubt she wants -"

"How the hell would _you _know what she wants?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at you. "I'll figure it out myself." He turns and begins walking back toward the nurses' station.

"Just let her go for awhile." Your voice is calm, but you feel like you're internally begging him. You follow him back down the hall and cringe when a nurse gives him the information he's asking for. It figures that nurses can never just keep their mouths shut. "At least wait until she wakes up. Let me talk to her first."

He doesn't say a word to you. He walks past you, towards Cameron's room then stops outside the door once he gets there. It's hard to tell whether the look on his face is still anger or if it's changed to intense worry. He just stands outside the door for a good minute before placing his hand on the knob.

The only thing you can do is stand there and watch. You mentally go down through all hospital policies in your head and try to think of a reason why he wouldn't be allowed in there. You rule out him not being family because he can quickly use the excuse that he's a doctor. You're sure he'll be able to get around it if you reply that he's not _her _doctor. Crossing your arms, you close your eyes and bite your lip. You wonder what the hell you got yourself into. Not only are you trying to deal with Cameron, now you have Chase to worry about too.

"I thought this was her room," Chase says.

You open your eyes. "What?" He's now standing in the doorway while staring at an empty bed. Your eyes widen and you push him lightly out of the way to get past him. Cameron is nowhere to be seen. "This is her room."

"Then where is she?" he asks.

You have no idea. You can't think of any place she could have gone and begin to worry she went looking for you. It was definitely a bad idea to leave her alone. Rationality tells you no matter how broken Cameron is, she probably isn't doing some search of the entire hospital just to find you. She could have easily had someone page you. That intensifies your panic though, because it leaves you with fewer possibilities.

"Thirteen?" Chase questions.

You ignore him because you have more important things to think about than his questioning. Pushing past him once more, you go in the opposite direction of where you just came from to find Cameron.


	4. The Finish Line

**Angel's: **Yeah...Apparently I have the ability to make myself hate Chase too. I liked him until I started writing him. o_O Weird.  
**JB:** Baha. Credit for that line goes to Vanamo. She's much more witty than I am. Lol.  
**Less than 13:** Glad you like the story...and that 2nd person is working. I keep worrying about it...but I honestly can't see myself typing it any other way.  
**Amazon:** Glad you're liking it! And that I'm so far managing to keep in character. -sweatdrop- And I stole Cameron away to cuddle her myself. -shiftyeyes- I'm giving her back this chapter tho! And I fit SP into everything...seriously. You just have to look for it in my fics. But there are SP references hiding all over the place!  
**Roronoa:** -sends Thirteen and Cam to stitch up your hand- All better? Don't sue me! I'm not...trying to bash Chase, so I dunno. I do have a few ideas into making Chase...nearly likable...eventually.  
**Eva:** Thanks!  
**YDPP:** I'm glad you're liking it. It's definitely a challenge writing from both their POVs in 2nd person.  
**WrongObsession:** I had to look up BAMF on urban dictionary. -is totally pathetic- Hope your SATs went well! Those things suck...  
**Nameless:** I stole Cam. But I am now returning her (reluctantly).  
**Wonderous:** Thank you!  
**Wesley:** I had a shark...but my family left the window open and froze him to death. My name is now Rabidnar (his name) in honor of him. -sniffles- I have a thing for Chase's hair. -drool- And...and...I wasn't hogging Cam! I was just...okay, I was totally keeping her all to myself.  
**Ina:** I suck at trying to make my stories progress quickly. I always feel like I'm missing things and have no clue how to make time pass. So...glad that's working out for my advantage!

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR  
The Finish Line  
**_I feel like I am watching everything from space.  
And in a minute, I'll hear my name and awake._

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

As you approach the doors of the chapel, you're not sure how you got there. You remember getting up and leaving your hospital room but everything between then and now is just a blur. Thirteen was nowhere to be found when you woke up. It didn't bother you so tried to go back to sleep. Not only couldn't you sleep, you soon realized you couldn't feel anything.

Physically, your body has taken on a new soreness. You're not sure how you expected not to feel what that man had done to you. You feel it now. It hurts to even walk. Emotionally, you're completely numb. You're not angry at the man who hurt you. You're not scared to be without Thirteen anymore. You're not anything. There's fear deep down, but because you're numb, it feels like it's in a box. It's unsettling but your mind wards off even that emotion.

You push open the doors and let yourself in then walk to one of the pews near the middle. The place is completely empty. You're glad it's empty because you just want to be alone. Letting out a shaky breath through your mouth, you sit down and stare blankly. It brings back memories and you wonder if this was the pew you sat in after you aided in the death of Ezra Powell. Part of you expects House to walk through the doors and place his hand on your shoulder again. Your mind is screaming for any such comfort.

_You can still see the thankful look Ezra gives you and hear his voice telling you you're doing the right thing. You're sitting in the locker room, overwhelmed with guilt and terror. As soon as his breathing began to get shallow, you ran. Even as horrified as he looked, he told you it was okay for you to go. It was over. You're wringing your hands together and fidgeting nervously, doubting that what you did was right._

You're in the chapel again. You're leaning forward with your arms resting on your legs and your hands clasped tightly together. Tears are stinging your eyes, but you don't know why. The flashback left you feeling detached and less in touch with reality than before.

_Tears are streaming down your face. You try to tell yourself Ezra was going to die anyway, but it doesn't ease the feelings you have from what you did. There are so many feelings that you can't even pinpoint what they are. You're sure some of them are positive, but you can only feel the negative. You never believed in God, but you need something pure to restore all that you've lost by euthanizing Ezra. The chapel isn't helping as much as you thought it would, but you can't bring yourself to leave._

_The doors in the back don't make any noise as they open, but you're alerted someone is there once you hear footsteps. You try to convince yourself it's the family of some patient and not someone searching for you. Staring straight ahead, you deny your curiosity about who it is. All you want to think about is Ezra. Part of you wants to drown in your guilt as some sort of punishment incase you were wrong._

_There's a hand on your shoulder and you automatically know it's House. You lean into his touch and suddenly don't want him to leave. The two of you stay there in silence for what feels like several hours even though in reality it's only a few seconds._

You slowly place your hand on your shoulder because you need to make sure House's isn't there. You just felt his hand there; you know you did. It isn't there when you reach to touch your shoulder though. A few tears begin to fall and you quickly wipe them away. The flashbacks are disturbing not only because they're about something you want to forget but also because they have nothing to do with the reason you're in the chapel now.

You figure you should be having flashes of…of what? Leaning forward, you bury your face against your hands and try to remember. You know what happened to you, but the details are fuzzy. The more you think about it, the more you realize you don't know any of the details at all. You knew them last night. You knew them this morning. You couldn't stop thinking about them. You can't find any of the memories now. Some part of you is thankful. If what happened to you was so traumatic that your brain has chosen to store it away, then let it be gone! The rest of you knows that it probably won't be gone forever and it's not healthy to keep such things locked away.

"Jesus! I was looking all over for you!"

You turn to see Thirteen standing in the doorway of the chapel. "Pun intended?" you ask, trying to see if you can even feel amusement. You can't even feel good emotions. If she got the joke, it doesn't seem to entertain her anymore than it does you. Looking away as she walks toward you, you scoot over so she can sit down.

"You could have left a note or something," she says as she sits down beside you.

"I didn't think you'd care," you answer. Sniffling, you scoot forward on the pew and cross your arms over the back of the pew in front of you. You rest your head on your arms and close your eyes.

"Yeah, well, I do," she answers simply. She places a hand on your back and doesn't move it even as you jump.

Her touch makes you shiver. You lean back again and rest your head against her shoulder, soaking in comfort and the feeling of safety whether your deadened emotions need it or not. "How did you find me?"

"I come here sometimes," Thirteen says. She leans back and props her foot up on the pen holder on the back of the pew in front of you.

You glance up at her. It's hard to see Thirteen ever willingly set foot in the chapel for some reason. Maybe it's because of all the rumors you've heard about her. "Does it help?"

"No," she replies bluntly.

"Oh." You glance down and hesitantly take her hand. "What do you ask for?"

"Who says I ask for anything?" she answers and laces your fingers.

"That's why most people come here," you answer. You rub your thumb lightly up and down her pointer finger as you think. "It's either usually to ask for something or to celebrate something." You notice the look on her face is emotionless and distant. If there was a light bulb hovering above your head, it'd suddenly flicker on. "Sorry."

"Chase is looking for you," she says after a moment. "I can find him if you want."

You shake your head. You know eventually you're going to have to face everyone, but right now you just want to be with her.

"He's going to find you eventually," she says. "He's your boyfriend. You need to talk to him. You can't just hide from everyone. If you do, you're not going to get anywhere."

You know she's right. "He's going to think I'm dirty." Your voice cracks even though you're not sure why. "What if he leaves?"

"Where do you even get these thoughts?" she asks. "You know you're being illogical." She lets go of your hand and gets to her feet. "I have a job I need to get back to. You can do this."

You don't know whether to be thankful for her firmness or not. You know without it, you'd just curl up on the chapel pew for the rest of the day. You want to curl up on the chapel pew for the rest of the day though. "Are you going to leave?"

"Depends what you mean by leave," she answers. She reaches out her hand then helps you up once you take it. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

You nod slowly. "What if I can't talk to him?" Keeping a tight grip on her hand, you follow her out of the chapel and back to your room.

"Then tell him he needs to give you time," she answers. "If he doesn't listen, page me and I'll tell him he needs to give you time."

"I don't want to." The fear is coming back. You pull your hand away and take a few steps back, almost crashing into someone walking by you. You jump and spin around, colliding with Thirteen instead. The wall stops her from falling over and she swears under her breath then rubs her elbow. You step away from her and press the palms of your hands to your eyes. Your chin starts to quiver and you quickly clench your jaw to make it stop. You're already disgusted with yourself for crying so much.

"Allison!" Chase rushed up to you. You know it's him because of his voice. Before you can move, he already has an arm around your shoulders and is pulling you closer to him. Every muscle in your body goes rigid that it's too painful to pull away. "You can go now," he tells Thirteen.

You glance over at her for a second before closing your eyes again and trying to remain calm. She's still clutching her elbow and you feel culpable.

"Chase," she says slowly. "You should just-"

"I got it," Chase cuts her off. He tightens his grip on you and it makes you feel sick. "Doesn't House have clinic duty or a case for you to do?"

"House wants me to take care of Cameron," Thirteen answers.

"You're on House's _diagnostic_ team," Chase answers. "So unless you're diagnosing her with something, you shouldn't even be her doctor."

Head aching, you press your palms to your temples and loosely twist your hair around your fingers. You try to block out their arguing, but to you it seems more intense than it really is. Exhaustion seizes everything about you and suddenly Chase is the only thing supporting you. He pulls you further into his embrace and you break down and cry.

"Chase!" Thirteen all but yells at him, "You're scaring her!"

"You don't know anything about her," he responds icily. "Go do your job."

She glances over at you and bites her lip then glares at Chase. "Fine," she replies, her voice just as harsh as his. "I will."

You count every footstep as she walks away, silently begging her to come back. Shrinking against Chase as he leads you the rest of the way back to your room, you clutch the sleeves of Thirteen's hoodie to your face in a futile attempt to hide.


	5. Mahogany

**Less than 13: **Eh...I'm only stressing over my Civ and Physics finals. No matter how much I study...they aren't gonna go so well. Glad you liked the chapel part.  
**Angel's:** Ah well. Chase is overrated anyway. Lol. Glad you liked the chapel part.  
**YDPP:** A hint? Do you mean a hint as in was Chase the one to hurt Cam? Because, no, I can tell you he wasn't. He's not that much of a bad guy. Haha. And do you mean how much time do I spend on this story? Definitely not as much as I should, actually. Each chapter takes...eh...maybe an hour to write. Then again, it depends on how much research I do. I did like 30mins of research on this chapter bc I couldn't decide whether I wanted to mention Zoloft or Prozac. Damn indecisiveness!  
**Wonderous:** Baha. 13 totally killed Chase in my mind. Unfortunately, that didn't seem like it would go over well to write. Lol.  
**WrongObsession:** 1. Best words in my vocab are "seriously" and "overrated". I use them enough to make the people who dislike me want to defenestrate themselves. If only they'd go thru with it. Ha. 2. SATs are overrated. -wink- 3. Baha. I love having the power to make ppl addicted to things.  
**Nameless:** So...it totally just took me five minutes to type out 'Nameless'. There was 'Namlss', 'Namelss', 'Namless'...Stupid sticky 'e' key. Anyway. Glad you liked it. And yeah...probably woulda been a bad idea to shove Chase while he was supporting Cam. She was definitely kicking his ass in my mind tho. Baha. And thanks. Finals suuuck.  
**Amazon:** Meh. My Psych paper really has nothing to do with this fic...at all. I had to write about breaking a social norm. So my paper was mainly about me coming out to my family about being bi. I'm just good with Psych in general. I can go so deep with it and still know I'm being realistic bc I'm basing Cam's feelings off what I've gone through in situations and Thirteen's off the person I tend to rely on. One good thing about being traumatized...is it makes for good writing. And bahaha. I had to mentally hold Thirteen back from punching Chase.  
**Ina:** Logical probably would be trusting your b/f or family...huh. You actually made me pause to wonder about myself. Like I said to Amazon, I'm basing Cam off myself and Thirteen off a friend I have. Kinda makes me wonder why such logic is thrown out in such a situation. I mean...obviously, it's impossible to actually think logically...but it seems like despite that...someone you know well would be the person you go to. I suppose it's like that for some people, but I'm just writing what I know. Logic is boring anyway. Lol. Now you've put me into 'insightful' mode. And honestly...I have no clue what I'm planning either! I have several small ideas for this fic, but it was only ever supposed to be one chapter...so I have no idea where I'm taking it yet. I'm just going one chapter at a time. I just typed you like...an essay. -blush-  
**Lollipops:** I'm glad you like it. And that her emotions don't seem over the top. I can put a guarantee down that anything she feels is a completely normal reaction to trauma.  
**Wesley: **Oh gosh...why did you have to mention Remy, Cam, and studying in the same sentence? I have dirty thoughts every single time I go by the studyroom on my floor now. It feels like the college equivalent to what them making out in a hospital storage closet would be like!

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER** **FIVE**  
**Mahogany**  
_I could help myself to something like a little bit of revelation.  
__You could be the one to help me help myself._

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

You're fidgeting in the hallway, caught in between feeling nervous and complacent. It's an odd feeling and you're not sure what to make of it. You run your fingers through your hair and work through a few tangles, knowing you probably look a mess. Your scrubs are wrinkled and you really want to go home and change into normal clothes. Actually, you just want to go home and collapse on your bed. Unfortunately, about now is the time you'd be coming into work for the day.

"Dr. Hadley! You said it was an emergency?"

You turn to face Cuddy as she walks toward her office which happens to be the room you're hovering outside of. It's hard to tell whether she's annoyed you called her into work or worried about the reason. You assume worried because, after all, you're not really one to call for help. "It's about Cameron." Now her expression is a toss up between worried and confused.

"What's wrong with Cameron?" she asks. Crossing her arms, she stops beside you and stares at you expectantly.

Part of you thought she would know by now. "Last night," you fumble for words and avoid looking Cuddy directly in the eye. "Someone hurt her." That's as much as you want to say about the matter. If she wants details, she can get them from House or a nurse. You really don't know that many details aside from the fact Cameron was raped. "House wants me to look after her."

"And why aren't you?" she replies without missing a beat. Her eyes bore into you almost in aggravation, as if she expects you're somehow trying to get out of helping Cameron. "Dr. Hadley?"

"Chase took her," you respond and finally look at her again. "Not really took her. He just went back to her room with her. She's scared and he doesn't understand."

"Where's House at?" Cuddy asks. "What room is she in?"

You tell her the room number but don't mention House. You suppose you could have gotten help from him. Shoving your hands in your pocket, you follow her to Cameron's room and debate whether to stand beside Cuddy or hide just around the corner. Your brain tells you to wait outside until Cuddy's deals with the situation, but instead you walk into the room beside her.

Cameron is sitting on the bed, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. She's not crying anymore and looks completely stiff, eyes fixed on the bottom of the bed. She doesn't even bother to glance over at you and Cuddy as you walk inside.

Chase is standing at the end of the bed, dangling his car keys. He seems calm, but you can see a hint of frustration in his eyes. He looks over at the two of you then narrows his eyes at you. He doesn't speak and you assume it's because Cuddy is standing right next to you.

Cuddy gives Cameron a sympathetic look and for a moment you think she's going to rush to the aid of the other doctor herself. Instead, she looks at Chase and motions him forward with her finger.

You step to the side and ignore the daggers he shoots at you as he walks past. Cuddy nods at you then shuts the door and you turn to face Cameron. Suddenly, you feel like you took two steps forward then jumped three-_thousand_ steps back.

Cameron seems to have retreated into herself and you're incredibly pissed off at Chase for that. Part of you wants Cuddy to deal with Cameron so you can storm into the hall and shove your fist into Chase's pretty, little face.

"Hey," you say softly, trying not to let your voice betray you. The last thing either of you need is for her to think she's the one you're upset with. She doesn't even look at you and that concerns you. Before you were afraid you wouldn't be able to pry her away from you and now you're desperate for her to reattach herself to you.

"Allison." You sit cross-legged on the bed directly in front of her and consider calling psych. It's the last thing you want to do, but you're worried about her. "Look at me." You shift to look her in the eye but her gaze darts in a different direction. A small sense of relief washes over you because now you know she at least knows you're there. After a brief moment of uncertainty, you delicately caress the side of her face with your thumb.

She recoils from your touch hits at your hand. "You left," she whispers. She's suddenly trembling and glancing wildly around the room like she's looking for some sort of escape.

"No," you reply soothingly and shake your head. "No, I just had to call Cuddy to talk to Chase." You reach out to touch her again but she jerks away and presses herself against the elevated back of the bed. "Allison, I'm scared for you," you tell her quietly. You expect her to panic or tears to fill her eyes, but instead she stays impassive. You find yourself actually wanting her to cry so you know she's feeling something.

"Can you talk to me?" you ask. She meets your eyes for a second then shakes her head and looks away again. "Okay." You get to your feet and walk to the door.

"Where are you going?" Her voice isn't panicked like you hoped it would be. She sounds completely drained.

"Just to the door," you explain. "I'm going to see if Cuddy is still there." To your relief, she's only just getting ready to leave and Chase is already halfway down the hall.

"How is she?" Cuddy asks, quickly looking over at you. She places one hand on her hip and the other on the wall.

"I want to put her on Sertraline," you reply.

Cuddy shakes her head. "She's just experiencing trauma symptoms," she answers. "Prescribing Zoloft this close to-"

"She's going to wind up with Posttraumatic Stress Disorder at the rate she's going," you argue quickly. "It's just for now. I wouldn't prescribe it if I didn't think she really needed it."

After a moment of silence, Cuddy nods her head. "Alright. But I'm only giving her the lowest dose." She turns to walk away then pauses. "I hope you don't plan on turning that paper work in."

You glance down at the hand still holding the papers House gave you earlier. They're now crinkled and Chase's pen has poked a hole through one of them. You bite back a few choice words and loosen your grip on the papers. As soon as Cuddy walks away, you begin trying to straighten them and develop a plan to cover the hole from the pen. It's useless and you toss them on a chair as you walk back into Cameron's room again.

Cameron is watching your every move and practically burning a hole through you with her gaze. "I couldn't even talk to him," she says quietly. "I couldn't even move. He probably thinks-"

"Stop," you demand gently, trying to keep calm. You want to tell her how much of a selfish ass Chase is, but you keep your thoughts locked away in your head. You walk over to the bed and sit beside her. "None of this is your fault, okay?"

"He told me to stop crying." She rubs her hands up and down her legs and looks away from you. "And now I can't feel anything."

You want to kill him. You want to steal House's cane and hit Chase over the head with it for being such an ignorant, arrogant jerk. "You're hurt, Allison. You're allowed to cry."

"I want to," she replies. She stops rubbing her legs and begins to wring her hands together. "I - I just…" She wrinkles her forehead, glancing around the room. "Nothing even feels real. _I_ don't even feel real. It's like I'm in a movie, watching myself." She glances at you for a second. "Everything is hazy."

Letting out a long breath through your mouth, you look up at the ceiling and try to think. You have no idea what to do for her. You look at her again and place your hand on her shoulder, letting it fall to the bed when she instantly shies away. "Maybe it'll help." You turn to sit so you're facing her and ignore her jumpiness as you pull her into what seems like the millionth hug you've given her in less than twenty-four hours.

She's still tense but finally settles into your tight grip. Clinging to your arm, she turns her head against your shoulder. "My stomach hurts," she mumbles, her voice muffled by your shirt.

"It's from anxiety and all the coughing you've been doing. You probably haven't eaten in awhile either," you explain, settling back against the bed. "You're fine." Fortunately, the Tylenol seemed to give her quite a bit of relief from coughing and sniffling. You tighten your grip on her to a point where you're holding her as firmly as possible without hurting her and rest your head against hers. "Am I helping?"

She nods and tightens her grip on you in return. "Don't leave right now," she pleads quietly. "I just need to feel something real. Please."

"I'm not going anywhere," you promise her. You close your eyes and rest your head back against a pillow. Her shaking intensifies but you doubt she even realizes it. "You need to talk to someone. Even if it's just me. I know you told the police but tha-"

"I can't remember." Her voice is so quiet that it's almost a whisper. "I can't remember anything after parking my car."

"Why did you park your car, Allison?" you ask. "Did you park it for him?"

"No." She turns her face away from your shoulder and hides it against your arm. "I had a fever. I got dizzy. I don't remember after that."

"Okay." You glance over at Cuddy as she walks in the room and then closes the door behind her.

She glances around for the stand to put the Zoloft and a cup of water on before noticing it on the floor. She opens her mouth to speak but apparently changes her mind and puts the water and medicine by the sink. "Is there anything either of you need?"

"Yeah." You nod, though feel a bit guilty for sending her on errands for you. "Neither of us have eaten in awhile."

"I can't," Cameron mumbles, shaking her head.

You rub a hand up and down her back and ignore her words. "Soup or anything easy for her," you tell Cuddy, though you realize she probably already has that much figured out. "I'll just take a sandwich." You stop rubbing Cameron's back and reach into your pockets, digging around for a few dollars. "Damn it."

"I can pay for it," Cuddy assures you. "Or I'll add it to House's tab. He'll never even know."

"If you pay for it, I'll pay you back," you tell her, not really wanting any kind of charity.

"Well, I'll just tell you I put it on House's tab," she answers. "And I'll, uh, get you a new table." She eyes the broken table on the floor then raises a brow at you.

You blush and shrug your shoulders. "Was like that when we got here," you lie. You glance at Cameron but she doesn't contradict your statement. Her eyes follow Cuddy as she leaves then she buries her face against your arm again. You rub her back again, working your hand upwards until you're rubbing one of her shoulders. She shrinks under your touch for several moments before relaxing and loosening her grip on you.

"Do you have anyone I can call for you?" you ask, running your fingers through the ends of her hair. "You don't have anyone on your emergency contacts."

"My brother lives five hours away," she answers, shaking her head. "I couldn't tell my parents this. They'd get too upset."

You wonder how in a time like this she can still think of others above herself. "No friends I can call for you? Or do you just want me?" Her silence provides enough of an answer. "Okay." You tuck her hair behind her ear then sit up a bit straighter when Cuddy walks back in.

The smell of your lunch wafts through the room and Cameron's stomach growls as she eyes the food. "See, there's the reason your stomach hurts," you say, patting her arm. You feel weird being all cuddly and caring in front of Cuddy but you brush it off. "Thanks," you say as Cuddy pushes the new table with the food on it over to the bed.

"Do you need somewhere to stay for awhile, Cameron?" Cuddy asks. She grabs the Zoloft and water from by the sink and places it on the table.

"She's staying with me," you blurt out.

"What?" Cuddy, Cameron, and your brain all ask the same question at once. _What the hell did you just get yourself into, Remy? _you ask yourself and struggle to find something else to say.

Cameron scoots forward and pokes at her soup for a moment with a spoon then glances at you. "Thank you." The tone of her voice is so earnest that you know there's no way of getting out of it now.

"That's very nice of you, Dr. Hadley," Cuddy comments, "But are you sure? Because my door is always open."

You force a smile and nod your head. "It's fine," you reply. "Thanks for bringing us food." You watch Cuddy leave then stare at Cameron for a few moments as she takes the medicine then starts eating. _This could work out okay, _you convince yourself as you grab your sandwich. _At least my house won't seem so empty for a few days._


	6. Why

**Angel's:** Baha. Let's all just get canes from House and go after Chase. -evilgrin- And thanks.  
**WrongObsession:** Yeeaah. I wish I could charge my meals to House's account now that it's the last week of school and I'm out of money. I think I may have been internally ranting when I had her do that. xD  
**Amazon:** Yay for long reviews! -grin- ...Is it even possible to hate Chase more than Foreman? Seriously. Lol. Glad you like their interactions. And eh...the paper was kinda boring. I wrote it 'cause it was easier than my other options. There's a trauma club now? Baha.  
**Ina:** 1. That was totally not too long! I lovelovelovelovelove long reviews. Seriously. I see them and practically squeal in delight. Then I read them real slow 'cause I don't want them to end! 2. Sorry if I made you feel small! That was not my intention! I feel bad about it! I was just thinking outloud...through typing...'cause it helps me write when I do that. Sorry if I offended you, bc I definitely did not mean to! And I actually do have a clue where I'm taking the story. It came to me today. Baha.  
**Wonderous:** You're like...the 50th person to mention Glee to my in the past week. Even people I don't know have mentioned the show to me. And I've never watched it. Hm. And glad you're liking the story.  
**Eva:** Thanks!  
**YDPP:** Oh! Okay! Glad I misunderstood that. And yeah...he doesn't quite understand. This chapter took longer than an hour...'cause I was way distracted. Um...I didn't really think about when this was set until you mentioned it. I'm gonna make it after Last Resort.  
**Dominus:** Thank you. And defenestrate should be used more often!  
**Nameless:** I didn't think much about it, but I assume in my brain he tried to comfort her...it just didn't work very well. And yeah...definitely gonna direct his anger toward Thirteen. It has to go somewhere right...? And the fact that she is the only one Cam trusts is an excuse to be angry right there.  
**Wesley:** -huffs- I tried to study last night...Somehow I ended up daydreaming about Christmas smut that I'll probably make into a fic after finals. -siiiiigh- Baha. I have this mental image of Cuddy kicking Chase down the hall now. I just seem him flailing and flying. xD

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER** **SIX**  
**Why**  
_These days aren't easy like they have been once before.  
__These days aren't easy anymore._

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

You're clutching the small suitcase of clothes you retrieved from your house tightly against your chest as Thirteen leads you down the hall and toward the door of her apartment. You can hear her keys jingling in her hand even though you're not really focused on anything going on around you. Your hints that you would have much rather had her stay at your house with you had either been ignored or been too subtle for her to pick up on and now you're nervous and distracted.

"Hey! I've been waiting for you forever!"

Your head snaps up as a voice ruins your comfortable silence. Instinct tells you to hide behind Thirteen, but she steps forward and welcomes the woman standing near her door with a kiss. Suddenly you feel like you're completely exposed and out in the open, despite that no one even seems to notice your presence anymore.

"I forgot you were going to be here," Thirteen answers the girl with a grin. "Sorry, Rebecca."

The redhead presses her lips against Thirteen's again as the doctor fumbles to get her keys in the lock on her doorknob. She finally pushes the door open and takes a step back. "Cameron, you can go in and put your stuff down somewhere."

You eye Thirteen as she goes back to using your last name again. After a pause, you hesitantly nod and inch past Thirteen's friend. The other girl makes you feel uncomfortable, maybe because of the amount of skin her skimpy, green dress is revealing. You notice Thirteen grin and shrug at Rebecca then she shuts the door once you're inside her apartment.

Letting out a breath through your mouth, you stand by the door and look around. Feeling like an intruder, you just want to go home now. You should have known you were interfering with Thirteen's personal life, but you hadn't really been thinking. Your hands begin to shake and you force them to stop by gripping your bag even tighter.

You're too out of it to hear the door open again and Thirteen suddenly appears beside you. "You okay?" she asks.

You jump and spin to face her, nearly crashing into the wall. "Don't fucking do that!" You're unsure of where the sudden explosion of anger came from and quickly try to calm it. Ashamed of yourself for shouting at her, you turn away and mumble an apology then watch her out of the corner of your eye.

"Sorry." She runs her fingers through her hair then shuts the door again.

"Who was that?" you ask, glancing toward the door. A twinge of jealousy because Thirteen's attention had been focused on someone else tugs at your heart and you attempt to ignore it, reminding yourself that you're not her only focus. The realization that you want all of her attention takes your anger up a notch and you begin mentally scolding yourself over everything and anything.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asks, simply avoiding the question. "You can put your bag down anywhere. I'll find somewhere to put it later."

"I don't need a drink," you lie. Your throat is beginning to get scratchy again, but not admitting it makes you feel like you at least have some sort of dignity left. You put your bag down beside you and slouch against the wall.

"You don't look good," she comments and raises her hand to feel your forehead. "Do you want more Tylenol?"

"I'm _fine_." You push her hand away despite the longing to feel her touch. _What are you doing, Allison? Make up your damn mind about what you want. _Breathing heavily, you kick lightly at the floor with your toes for a moment.

"Okay." She nods and glances around for a moment. "Well, I'm going to make some tea for both of us anyway. You should sit down."

You can't help but get the feeling she really doesn't want tea for herself as she walks away. Wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, you walk over to the couch and take a seat. Your foot taps nervously on the ground and you make an effort to ignore it until you accidentally kick the coffee table. After sliding off your shoes, you pull your feet up on the couch and stare at the wall.

The living room begins to get lonely and your thoughts begin to wander. The door is unlocked and a hundred scenarios about someone coming in and attacking you begin to play on repeat in your head. The impulse to lock the door overwhelms you and you quickly get up and do so. You push the lock on the knob then lock it with the chain also. It doesn't make you feel any better and after a moment of just standing there, you scurry into the kitchen to be closer to Thirteen.

She looks at you and smiles slightly but you're not sure whether it's forced or not. She glances at the mugs of water in the microwave then takes a few sugar cubes from a box and puts one in her mouth. "Want one?" she asks casually. If she notices you try to withdraw and shrink into the corner, she ignores it and simply holds out her hand. "You know you do. It's better than sulking."

Sighing, you take two of them and place one in your mouth then pretend to examine the other. Acting like everything is fine and normal begins to make you feel slightly better. Hiding no longer seems all that necessary and you walk over to the table and take a seat. The constant back and forth between extreme emotions and feeling okay is beginning to take its toll on you. The numbers on the microwave catch your attention and you wait for the alarm, bitterly counting down until you jump again.

_5. 4. 3. 2. _

Thirteen hits the stop button then opens the microwave door and places the mugs on the counter. "I have different flavors," she says as she opens the cupboard above the sink. "Chamomile, Earl Grey, Apple Spice-"

"I don't care," you cut her off. You tap your other sugar cube on the table for a moment then place it in your mouth and cradle your head in your hands.

"That's not an answer," she replies.

"Yeah, well you never gave me an answer when I asked who that girl was," you mumble, muffling your words with your hands.

"Are you going to decide?" she asks, not seeming to have heard you. "I'm not going to choose for you."

"Chamomile," you mutter finally. You figure maybe it'll help you relax because the Zoloft sure isn't doing anything. Lifting your head, you watch her take the tea bags down from the cupboard. "Your apartment is nice," you comment, trying to come up with any kind of small talk to make yourself feel better.

She gives you an amused look. "It's kind of messy." Looking around her kitchen, she walks over and hands you a mug. "Thanks though."

You nod slightly and take the tea. It soothes you throat as you take a few sips but you still feel a mess and your head is beginning to ache. "Can we sit on the couch?" you ask, really needing to just curl up somewhere comfortable for awhile.

"Sure." She places a hand on your shoulder which causes you to tense for a moment before relaxing into her touch.

_Stop it_, you tell yourself in frustration. _You don't have a single damn reason to freak out every time she touches you. Soon, she won't want to anymore and then what? It'll all be your fault because you keep screwing up._

"Are you coming?" she asks.

You think about telling her you need more Tylenol then decide to just tough it out. "Yeah." Your hands are shaking again and you have to be careful not to spill your tea as you get up. Her arm wraps around your shoulders and she feels your forehead. The way she sighs lets you knew you're indeed as feverish as you feel and suddenly you're guilty again. Taking a long drink of your tea, you try to drown your feelings.

"It's probably going to take a while to adjust," she says as she walks with you to the couch. "My apartment isn't exactly the homiest place in the world."

"It's nice." You shake your head, doubting that the way you feel has anything to do with her apartment. "It really is." You begin to wonder if she really thinks you don't like her apartment. You take another drink of tea, trying to convince yourself it'll drown out your thoughts.

She rubs your arm a few times then places her mug on the coffee table and practically collapses back onto the couch. "I'd ask if you want to watch TV, but I don't have cable since I don't have much time to watch TV and I doubt you'd be interested in any of the movies I own."

"It's okay." You place your mug beside hers then curl up at her side and close your eyes as her arms wrap tightly around you. "You don't have to hold me." You can't help but feel glad you're the one in her arms and not that girl that was at the door, but it makes you feel like you're smothering her.

"Stop acting like you're bugging me," she answers. "I know what I do and don't have to do. If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Right," you mutter.

"You think I'm lying to you?" she asks, almost sounding slightly offended.

"No." You shrink against her. _Just shut up, Allison. Obviously, you can't even say anything right. _Her grip on you loosens and you fight the urge to pull her arm tighter around you again. "I'm such an idiot. When is this going to stop?"

"You're not an idiot," she argues quickly. "You're not going to just recover overnight."

_I wish I could. _You pick up your mug again and take a few sips. You notice that she hasn't really even touched hers. Sighing quietly, you close your eyes.

_The sky is pitch black and the road is completely void of cars. As you're overcome by another coughing fit, you suddenly regret not calling for Chase to just come get you. You're already just praying he's home because you didn't call to let him know you were showing up for the night. You doubt he really has anywhere he would be though._

_The coughing doesn't let up until you're gagging and everything is spinning. You realize your best option is to just pull over and finally call Chase to come get you. Tears stinging your eyes, you get out of the car for a breath of fresh air. It doesn't do much for your throat, but the chilliness eases your fever._

_It's late and the only light you have to dial the numbers on your cell phone come from nearby street lamps. Your phone should light up itself, but occasionally it refuses to work. You're about to hit send when you cough again. Supporting yourself against the door of your car, you try to breathe and relax._

"_Nice to see you again, Allison." A familiar voice greets you and a gloved hand covers your mouth to prevent you from making any noise. _

"Allison?" Thirteen is kneeling beside you with an arm wrapped around you. She's trying to steady the mug you're holding in your vibrating hands. As you slowly come to, you allow her to take it from you and put it on the table. It takes several moments for you to shift back to reality enough to realize tears are running down your face and she's rocking you, trying to convince you to take deep breaths. You wouldn't have even realized you're near hyperventilating if it wasn't for her verbally telling you.

"Jesus, Allison," she whispers in your ear. "What happened to you last night?"

"I don't know," you choke, shaking your head and trying to latch onto her. "I don't know."


	7. Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas

**Wesley:** Baha. Can't answer those questions right now. You're sending Remy and Cam to take care of my ant issue? Screw ants. We're going to go study. Ahahahaha.  
**WrongObsession:** Sugar cubes are amazing. Baha. I had tea the other day and was so sad...bc there were no sugar cubes. My cousin and I used to by them at the store then hide them under our beds and eat them super early in the morning.  
**Quirky: **I'm glad that you're enjoying it and that I'm managing to put some depth to it!  
**Angel's:** Yeah. If they're even really feelings yet though. It was more just...an attachment.  
**Roronoa:** Aw. School tests from hell are no fun. When my Math teacher gives tests...before he writes the review, he always writes, "Hellish Test #_" on the board. Bahaha. And I love rambling never ending reviews! Seriously. They make my whole day. xD  
**Somuch:** Yeah...I was a little hesitant at first, but not anymore. Glad to know I'm managing to handle it well. Thanks!  
**Wonderous:** Glad you're liking it! And everyone keeps telling me about Glee now. Like...so suddenly. People online, people offline...Kinda scaring me. I feel compelled to watch it now. Ha.  
**Nameless:** Yes, the guy does know Cameron. But...that's all I can say! Baha. I thought about giving you all a hint...but decided to just leave you questioning!  
**Ina: **Psssh. I love theories and stuff. So what if we misunderstand each other? We can always fix it! And rambling/off topic isn't all that bad either. Haha. Glad you dislike Rebecca. I don't like her either.  
**Amazon:** Baha. I have social anxiety. I might not do so well in a club! xD Baha. /You/ think I'm mean? Imagine how much Cameron must hate me with me making her brain stop at that part! -evillaugh- And totally not silly! Teehee. I just made Vanamo choke on a donut by the way. -dies- Now that I'm laughing hysterically and can barely type...  
**YDPP:** Yes, she does know him. But other than that...I can't and won't tell you anything. Even if you scream, beg, cry, or threaten me with the flamethrower you apparently don't own. Ha.  
**Less than 13:** There will be more flashbacks, but I promise there won't be anything graphic. The M rating is only bc rape is mentioned not bc I plan on getting graphic with it. So no worries!

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas**  
_But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door._

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

You don't know how long you've been sitting on the couch, but you're bored as hell. Your mind keeps wandering to Rebecca and how you missed out on a chance for sex with an amazingly hot girl. Knowing there will be other chances with her lessens your aggravation slightly but does nothing for your restlessness.

Cameron is curled up between you and the couch with her head resting on your shoulder. She stopped crying awhile ago but looks completely dazed. Her eyes are glazed over as she stares at the floor, barely even blinking. You're absent-mindedly running your fingers through her hair because you can't think of any way to comfort her. She covers her mouth and coughs a few times then curls up closer to you.

"Why don't you let me get you some more Tylenol?" you ask with an exasperated sigh as you place your hand on her forehead. You don't know why she's suddenly fighting against taking medicine. She shakes her head but you sit straight anyway, pulling her up with you.

"I don't _want_ any," she argues in a hoarse voice, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "I'm _fine_. I don't need medicine."

You snort and get to your feet. "You're burning up and can barely _talk_. Of course you're fine," you reply sarcastically. "How do you expect to get better if you refuse to take anything?"

"It'll run its course," she mumbles, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"Either that or you'll end up with Pneumonia," you retort. "If this is some twisted form of self-pity, I'm stopping it in its tracks." You watch tears fill her eyes and regret making her cry again but you don't regret what you said.

"Why do you even care?" she whispers, staring past you. "If I-"

"Stop." You don't even want to hear what she has to say. "I'm trying to be your friend. If you decide you suddenly don't want me to care then go to Cuddy's house." Part of you finds it hard to believe she's even acting like this. How many times have you openly cared about anyone at the hospital, or anyone in general? It figures that your attempts to be nice end up all wrong.

"Trying to be my friend?" she asks. "You're probably just trying to suck up to someone somehow by playing the Good Samaritan. You never tried to be my friend before."

You grit your teeth and narrow your eyes at her. "Are you done insulting me?" How were you supposed to ever be friends with her before? _Hi, my name is Thirteen. I'm the doctor House chose to replace you with on the team because he thought I was hot. You're really cute. Want to get coffee sometime?_

She stares at you a moment then lowers her head to her hands and presses her palms to her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I'm not thinking. I wasn't…" Her voice trails off and she shakes her head.

You realize she isn't herself right now and that it isn't her fault. Thinking back on everything you've heard about her, everyone seems to like her and she's usually very sweet. You want to tell her that it's fine, but she actually offended you. You're not a shy person, but having a crush on her had something to do with why you never attempted talking to her before this.

"Sorry," she mumbles again.

"I know." You shove your hands into your pockets and realize you haven't changed out of the scrubs you put on after helping her in the shower. She's still in your sweatpants and hoodie. "I'm going to get you more Tylenol, even if you don't want it. We should probably get showers then get changed."

"Alright." She nods and lowers her hands to her lap. She just sits there for a moment then slowly gets to her feet. After grabbing the mugs from the table, she follows you into the kitchen and walks over to the sink.

"You don't have to wash the dishes," you comment as you dig through your medicine cabinet. "I can do them." You grab the Ecstasy on one of the shelves and quickly hide it behind a box of band-aids before taking the Tylenol down and getting one of the pills for her.

"It's okay," she answers, "I need something to do."

"We can think of something better than washing dishes later," you reply. Noticing the amount of steam coming from the water she's using, you place the pill on the table then walk over and place your hand under the water. "Damn it." You pull back as the water scalds you and quickly turn the knob for cold water on.

"I didn't realize it was that hot," she defends herself instantly, pulling her hands from underneath the water.

"Like hell you didn't," you reply. Now you're nervous to let her go take a shower. You turn the water off and grab her hands to examine them. They're red but fortunately not burnt. The last thing you need is another self-destructive person in your life. You have enough trouble handling yourself.

"_Sorry_," Cameron mumbles. She stares at her hands for a moment then pulls them out of your grip and crosses her arms.

"I'm going to go get a shower." You're half afraid to even leave her alone as you go to do that. "Take the medicine. There's water and orange juice in the refrigerator to take it with or you can make more tea if you want."

"Okay." She nods and seems to hesitate for a moment before walking over to your refrigerator.

You run your fingers through your hair then turn and walk to your bathroom.

You were hoping to be able to stand under the hot water and just completely forget about everything. The shower helps you relax a bit, but you still find your mind constantly on Cameron. You wonder what she's doing, if she's okay, what's going on in her head…It nearly drives you insane. Before you get out and dry off, you take your razors off the shelf and toss them from the shower to on the floor behind your paper can because you know what a temptation they can be when everything in life is going all wrong.

Even though you can't stop thinking about Cameron, you're not exactly eager to leave the bathroom. It's not that you're annoyed with her, but you don't know what to do. The constant change in her moods makes you feel like you're walking on eggshells. It makes you anxious which unfortunately seems to turn into anger. Trying to procrastinate, you end up just standing in front of your mirror blow-drying your hair until it's long past the point of being dry.

You're in the bathroom for probably an hour before you run out of reasons not to leave. You'll have time to yourself while she's in the shower anyway. You know your mind will be on whether or not she's trying to scald herself with the water though. You leave the blow-dryer on the counter incase she wants to use it then wrap a towel around yourself and walk to the living room.

After a long moment of just watching her sit on the couch wringing her hands together, you speak up. "Hey," you say softly. You try not to startle her, but she jumps anyway. "Shower's all yours."

"Oh." She nods and gets to her feet. "Ok. Thanks." She seems like she's trying to look you in the eye, but her gaze keeps wandering to the towel you're wearing.

"Sorry. I should have gotten dressed first," you say quickly, getting the feeling you're making her uncomfortable. She has a way of making you self-conscious about yourself and you can't decide whether or not you enjoy that. Whatever the sudden tension is between you, you have a feeling it's only sexual on your end and you begin scolding yourself. "I'm gonna go do that." You motion back to your room then quickly walk in that direction, groaning inaudibly. _Can't you ever think of anything besides sex, Remy? _Obviously you can, but right now it sure doesn't feel like it. The fact that she's hurt and you're still thinking about it makes you incredibly pissed off at yourself.

The shower water starts running in the bathroom and you stand in the middle of the bedroom for a moment to just listen to it before walking over to your closet. Letting your towel drop to the floor, you tell yourself you'll worry about picking up that and the articles of clothing on your bedroom floor later. Despite it being cold outside, it's warm in your house and you settle for wearing a black, silk nightgown that comes up to just above your knees.

As you go to shut your closet door, it gets caught on a box on the top shelf. Glaring up at the box, you give the sliding door a hard shove. It pushes the box which falls and nearly hits you in the face. It probably would have hit you if you hadn't jumped back a few inches. Muttering under your breath, you open one of the cardboard flaps to peek inside even though you just plan on putting it back up on the shelf.

A branch of your two-foot tall miniature Christmas tree pokes out. You now vaguely remember putting the box up there some time around Thanksgiving. You had meant to put the tree up in the living room but decided to just screw the holidays this year. Christmas just wasn't worth it when you spent it by yourself. It always felt like just another day whether you decorated for it or not.

You grab a chair from the corner of your room and drag it over to the closet. You're about to lift the box to replace it on the shelf when you're hit with an idea. You leave the box on the floor then climb onto the chair and lower two more boxes to the ground. Maybe you can distract Cameron with decorating. You can picture her being a sickeningly cheery Christmas kind of person.

You drag the boxes one by one to the middle of your living room. The shower water turns off and your blow-dryer turns on as you're in the middle of pulling the second box. You find yourself actually a bit excited. It reminds you of the Grinch's heart growing three sizes because you can't remember the last time you were excited over Christmas.

Once all three boxes are in the living room, you open the other two. The second is filled with lights and a few ornaments and the third has a train track and glass houses in it. You narrow your eyes at the third box and shove it roughly off to the side, your Christmas spirit slowly diminishing.

"What are you doing?"

You glance up as Cameron walks into the living room. She's wearing blue, Christmas pajamas. The top has a reindeer on it and the bottoms have a snowflake patter. "Seriously?" you ask with a goofy grin on your face, thinking she looks ridiculously adorable.

"What?" She wraps her arms around herself self-consciously and takes a slight step back. "It's December."

"I realize that," you answer, laughing. "And you're wearing Prancer or whatever his name is on your shirt."

Cameron stares at you a moment then uncrosses her arms and glances down at the reindeer for a moment before raising a brow at you. "Rudolph is the only reindeer with a red nose." She walks over to the boxes and kneels down, opening the one with the tree in it. Her eyes light up and she grins.

Her smile is contagious and you begin to pull the parts of the tree from the box and place them on the ground. "I thought this might distract us," you say, watching her take out the bottom of the tree then already begin trying to assemble it.

"I never would have taken you for someone who decorates," she comments, scooting over so you can help put the tree together. "This is like a midget tree. Shouldn't it just come already put together?"

"Don't pick on my tree," you tease, pretending to be offended. "You're going to hurt his feelings."

"It's a he?" she asks, her smile growing. "I didn't realize you had such an attachment to him."

"He's usually my only company during the holidays," you answer. "Do you have an issue with the relationship between me and my Christmas tree?"

"No," she giggles. Once the tree is put together, she inches back and claps her hands together. "Look how cute he is!"

You chuckle and shake your head. _Not as cute as you are. Ugh, Remy, focus on the tree you really don't even give a damn about._ "He needs lights."

"And ornaments!" She crawls on her knees over to the second box with you and helps you pull out rainbow colored lights and miniature red bulbs. "Every year, I always fold my lights so neatly and they come out tangled like this. At least it isn't only mine that seem to do that." She holds up your tangled mess of tree lights and tilts her head to the side.

You sit down cross-legged then take one of the ends and begin to help her untangle the lights. Part of you wonders if she'll be around long enough to spend Christmas with you. You try not to think about it because you don't want to set yourself up for the disappointment of being alone. "Do you put up a lot of decorations at your house?"

She smiles and nods. "It feels good, you know? You walk inside and the tree lights are lit up and everything looks like Christmas. My mom really likes candles so every year she sends me ones that smell like pine and gingerbread and cranberries. It's great. One year she even sent me one that smelled like candy canes." The lights are untangled and she helps wrap them around the tree. "My dad is really good at sculpting polymer clay. Every year he sends me an ornament he made. Last year, he sent me one that was Frosty the Snowman. It's detailed right now to the designs on his hat, scarves, and gloves. It's beautiful."

Your tree suddenly seems very mediocre. Everything about Christmas seems dull. You force the smile to stay on your face as you begin hanging the bulbs on the tree. "My dad sends me a card." _Sometimes. _You want to match up to her ramblings about the holiday and her family but you know you can't. _Yup. My dad sent me three cards over the last five Christmases and never even bothered to take the $1 price tag off. _You can feel her eyes on you, but you don't look at her because you know she's getting the feeling something is wrong. "It looks good," you announce, looking at your tree. It looks perfect, but you're too ashamed to feel it.

"Good?" she asks. "Thirteen, it looks _amazing._" She wraps her arms around you in a tight hug.

You pause then hug her back, burying your face against her hair and closing your eyes.

"What's in that box?" She rubs your back then pulls away and crawls over on her knees to the third box.

"Nothing important," you answer, following her. You reach to hold the cardboard flaps shut, but she already has them open.

"It's like an entire village!" She practically squeals in delight. "We used to have one of these when I was little but my brother broke all the people and houses." She rolls her eyes and exaggerates a sigh. "Boys."

"Oh," is all you can say. "It doesn't really match our tree. I'm just going to put them back in the closet."

"Are you crazy?" Cameron begins pulling out the houses, people, train, and tracks. "You can't just put them away. We have to set them up. Please?" She puts on her best pouty face, seeming oblivious to the fact you're not too eager to set up the little town.

"Fine," you answer with a sigh. You tell yourself you can always just put it all away once she leaves. "Just be careful with them, okay?"

"Of course," she replies. "They seem like they mean a lot to you."

"They don't," you lie. "They're probably worth money though."

"Well, I'll be careful either way." She smiles at you then begins to hook the pieces of the train track together.

You watch for a moment then hesitantly pick up the houses and people and began to make a little town in front of your tree.

You set things up exactly how you remember them when you were younger and they were under the tree in your house. Every year, you would sneak downstairs Christmas Eve night and play with them for hours and hours. Sometimes it would be light out by the time you crept back up to your bedroom. One year, your mom found you downstairs around two in the morning. You thought she was going to yell at you but instead she lied down on her stomach beside you and you spent a full two hours playing with the people. You vividly remember giggling as the two of you made them talk to each other and sing carols in front of the little glass houses. The year after that was when she began to show symptoms of Huntington's. She found you downstairs and threw one of the houses at the wall before screaming at you to get up to bed before Santa decided you shouldn't get any presents. You begged her to play with you and for some reason she got so angry that she literally threw your gifts outside in the snow.

The whistle of the toy train breaks your thoughts. You sit back and watch it begin to make a circle around the tree and village.

Cameron plugs the tree lights in then gets up and turns off the light in the room.

You stare mesmerized at the blinking lights then scoot closer to Cameron as she sits beside you. "Are you-"

"Shhh," she cuts you off and moves to lie down on her stomach, crossing her arms in front of her and resting her chin on them.

Watching her for a moment, you smile softly and admire how beautiful she is as the blinking lights reflect on her face. You want to lie down beside her but don't want to touch her and make her jump. You just want the moment to be peaceful.

"It's okay," she says almost as if she read your mind. She reaches over and grabs your arm, tugging you down beside her. She moves so the two of you are shoulder to shoulder. "When I was younger, my mom used to let me sleep under our tree. I haven't done that in years."

"We're not exactly under the tree," you comment. Even if the train wasn't in the way, you doubt there'd be enough room to even put your head under the tree without getting your eyes poked out from fake needles. It's been a long day and your eyelids are beginning to feel heavy to the point of where the lights are getting blurry. "You really want to sleep on the floor?"

She just smiles then buries her face against her arms. "I'm glad you're letting me stay with you," she mumbles.

"Mm," you answer and muffle a yawn. _I'm glad you're staying. _


	8. Happiness

**Angel's: **Yay. I'm glad it was cute and that Cameron's PJs totally worked for her. Aha. Glad you're loving it.  
**Seventh:** I'm glad you're liking it!  
**Roronoa:** Glad you thought it was cute. Tho...I didn't squee quite as much writing that chapter as I did the one Cam, Thirteen, and Alex made Christmas cookies in WBND.  
**WrongObsession:** I'm glad you liked it. Happy Holidays to you too.  
**Less than 13: **Glad you liked it. Baha. Christmas break is never relaxing no matter what.  
**YDPP:** Ha. I don't think Chase will be visiting Thirteen's apartment. I'll make the landlord set guard dogs or something on him if he does. Lol.  
**Amazon:** Glad you liked it. Christmas makes it impossible to not be cheery! Unless you're the Grinch...or Scrooge...or House. Haha.  
**Wonderous: **Well...I hope the holidays/sweetness wasn't a turnoff.  
**Nameless:** A hint on what? Haha. I suck at giving hints. My hints always give everything away!  
**Ina:** Yay speculations! You've pretty much got Thirteen pinned. What're some of your questions regarding Cam?  
**Wesley: **Well...he kinda works at the hospital. So, obviously, he'll be back. Haha. Thanks to you...I haven't even started studying yet! /fail  
**Moo:** Glad you liked it!

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**  
**Happiness**  
_Happiness feels a lot like sorrow.  
Let it be; you can't make it come or go._

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

You wake up extremely comfortable. Thirteen rolled over onto her back sometime in the middle of the night and you ended up half on top of her with your head resting on her chest. Her arms are wrapped tightly around you and you never want to leave the warm, snuggly feeling you have.

Sighing, you're pleasantly surprised that you can finally breathe through your nose. Your head still aches but your throat isn't quite as scratchy as it was yesterday. You bury your face against the fabric of Thirteen's nightgown for a moment and attempt to fall asleep again.

"Thirteen, what time do you have to go to work?" you mumble.

She inhales deeply and lets go of you to rub her face. "I dunno," she slurs. "Nine?"

You lift your head and glance at the clock. "It's six now." You glance over at her but she's sleeping again. Rubbing your eyes with one hand, you sit up and accidentally place a hand on the train track. The train crashes into you and pinches the space between your thumb and pointer finger. "Ouch." You quickly pull your hand back and examine it.

"Shhhh." Thirteen pats your arm a few times then rolls onto her side and covers her head with one of her arms.

Frowning, you roll your eyes and bring the injured part of your hand to your mouth and suck on it for a moment. You pull your hand back and look at the red mark for a few seconds before deciding you're probably not going to die.

Realizing you're probably not going to go back to sleep now, you glance around the room then get to your feet. Your suitcase is still on the living room floor and you walk over to it and dig out your cell phone then make your way into the kitchen. You dial a number on the phone then hold it to your ear with your shoulder as you open the refrigerator and begin to search for breakfast foods. You marvel at how you suddenly feel almost as much at home in Thirteen's apartment as you do at your own.

"_Hello?"_

"Mom!" You glance toward the living room and quickly lower your voice when Thirteen stirs. "Sorry, it's so early. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"_No, Sweetheart, I was already up. You said you were going to call yesterday, Allie. Are you okay? It's not like you to say you're going to call and then not."_

"Sorry," you apologize, pulling eggs from the refrigerator and taking them over to the counter. "Things came up." You walk over to the breadbox and smile when you find bread in it. "I actually called to ask you and Dad a favor." You glance in at Thirteen again then locate a pan and set to work on making French Toast.

"_What do you need, Sweetie?"_

"I'm staying with a friend," you answer. "I'll probably be here over Christmas. You know how you and Dad always send me stuff? I was wondering if this year…" You pause and bite your lip, feeling guilty about bragging about your family last night. "I was wondering if maybe you could send double? Something for her too?"

"_All you had to say is you're staying with a friend over Christmas!" Her voice becomes suddenly cheerful and she laughs. "Do you know what she likes? This is going to be great shopping for the both of you! I planned on going to the mall today!"_

You laugh and shake your head. "I'm sure she'll like anything you pick out," you answer. You go through the cupboard and sift through the different flavors of teabags. "Her name is…" _Shit. What's her real name again? _"Her name is Thirteen."

"_Thirteen? What were her parents thinking?"_

Grinning, you finally decide on Apple Spice flavored tea. "House named her that, Mom. Not her parents. Is Dad awake?"

"_I'll get him for you. Have a good day, okay? I love you lots."_

"I love you too." You smirk as she makes a kissing noise into the phone and continue to make breakfast as you wait for her to pass the phone. "Hi, Dad."

"_You said you were going to call yesterday, Allie. Is everything okay, Sweetpea?"_

"Things are fine," you lie and try not to think about it. You smile at the petname and almost sigh in relief that your dad isn't among all the men that now make you uncomfortable. "I got busy with work. I was thinking about coming home for New Years. Are you and Mom going to be home?"

"_Of course we'll be home!" he answers. "We wouldn't pass up the chance of seeing you!"_

"_She's coming home?" your mother's voice asks in the background. "Tell her to bring her friend! Go on! Tell her!"_

"_Your mom wants you to bring your friend. She redecorated the guest bedroom and is dying for someone to spend the night."_

"I don't think that's going to happen," you answer. "Sorry. It'll be just me." You hear footsteps and turn and smile as Thirteen wanders into the kitchen still looking half asleep. You smirk at her disheveled appearance. "Morning." You tense as she walks nearer to you but force your smile to stay on your face.

"Who are you talking to?" she asks, running her fingers through her hair. She walks over to the counter then leans forward with her elbows on it and rubs her eyes. "It isn't House, is it? I swear, if he wants me to come in early, I'll-"

"It's not House," you assure her before turning your attention back to your dad. "Dad, I have to go. I'm making breakfast. I love you."

"_Love you too, Allie."_

You hang up the phone and place it on the counter. "I'm making breakfast," you state the obvious, glancing over at Thirteen. "I feel a lot better today."

"That's good," she answers, muffling a yawn. "Are you going to be okay while I run into work? I won't be long unless House decides to make me stay. You should stay home though and rest until you're sure you're better. How are you feeling other than not feeling sick?"

You nearly drop the fork you're holding. "Let's not talk about it," you answer, shaking your head. "I don't want to think about it, okay?"

"You're going to have to th-"

"I just want to spend a few hours without crying, okay?" you cut her off. You stab at a piece of French Toast on the pan harder than you mean to and roughly flip it over. "And I was thinking about going into work with you."

"I know you need things to get back to normal," she comments, pulling two plates down from one of the cupboards. "But you were still running a fever in the middle of the night when you woke up."

"I don't remember that," you answer, shaking your head. "Here. I'll make us tea." You move so she can put the toast on the plates and you grab two mugs to fill with water.

She stares at you for a moment. "How can you not remember?" she asks. "You woke up screaming. The neighbors turned their porch light on."

"Well, obviously, I wasn't really awake." You watch her turn the stove off then flinch as she walks behind you and puts her hands on your shoulders. "Can we please just…?" Your voice trails off because you're not even sure of what you're saying anymore.

"Okay," she agrees after a moment of silence. She rubs your arms then lets go and takes the plates to the table. "Let's just have a good morning. We'll just talk about it at the hospital. You should probably let me give you a check up anyway."

You cringe and suddenly don't want to go into the hospital anymore. You hit the button on the microwave to heat up the water and get lost staring through the door at the slowly spinning mugs. Thirteen is talking again, but you barely hear her and you feel guilty for tuning her out. Ignoring the situation obviously isn't going to work. As you try to just forget about it, you end up feeling stressed to a point where your chest feels tight.

"It's going to start beeping," Thirteen warns you a few seconds too late. The alarm on the microwave goes off, causing you to jump back and knock over one of the chairs at the table.

For a moment, you're too startled to even move. You begin mumbling your apologies and reach down to pick up the chair as she walks over to the microwave to get the mugs. Feeling her watching you, you can't bring yourself to look back at her. "I'm not hungry anymore."

"You need to eat, Allison," she replies, grabbing the teabags and putting them in the water. "Even if it's just a few bites. You have to. You were hungry a few minutes ago."

It's hard to find the strength to argue. Your stomach rolls slightly from stress and you take a sip from one of the mugs despite that the tea isn't even strong yet. Glancing at Thirteen out of the corner of your eye, you watch her walk to the table and sit down before you follow her lead. "You need more eggs," you tell her quietly.

"I probably need more bread too," she answers. "I definitely need more milk and orange juice. We should go to the store after work."

You try to ignore a twinge of nervousness. "We could pick up some Christmas cookies too," you answer. "We could also get those mini candy canes to hang on our tree." You pause. "Your tree," you correct yourself.

"I'm sure _our _tree would look great with mini candy canes," she replies, starting to eat. "This is really good," she comments with her mouth half full.

"Thanks." You poke at your food before cutting it up and pushing it around your plate, occasionally managing to get a few pieces in your mouth. You wonder how long the two of you can manage to preoccupy yourselves with Christmas and food but you're satisfied with whatever means not talking about the more important things.


	9. You're A Mean One, Mr House

**Nameless: **Well...I've already talked to you elsewhere, but your name definitely deserves to be here.  
**Less than 13:** Well...you can at least forbid me until this fic is over. And well...it may end up being semi-long.  
**Wesley:** It's not writing or pressure from any of my reviewers. I love this fic. I love updating as often as I can. I like being encouraged to update bc if no one pressured me to...I'd get lazy. It's actually outside forces pressuring me to stop writing and reading Cadley. And...-points-. I don't walk past the study room anymore...bc...I'll end up just stopping and staring inside. And how awkward is that? "Cammie...why are you just staring into the empty room?" -facepalm-  
**Katchel:** Wow. Puerto Rico? I have a friend there currently!  
**WrongObsession: **I'm glad you like it. Unfortunately...I doubt things will turn out very well, but I will be sticking around until the end of this fic.  
**Wonderous: **Just like with Nameless...already talked to you elsewhere.  
**Kj:** Thank you. I will be around until this fic is finished.  
**Jess:** "...just know that you have lots of supporting and loving fans here if you ever need help or decide to return." That actually really struck me and made me realize my support system is currently you guys. Which is probably awful considering I've never actually met any of you.  
**Jungle:** Thank you.  
**Angel's:** Unfortunately, I feel like I could continue writing...forever. I could just sit here and type chapter after chapter. It's other who feel I can't continue writing.  
**Amazon:** Thank you.  
**Ilessthreethan:** Ah...Pooh. -hearts-  
**Ina:** No, see...now you /have/ to ask about Cam. Or I'll be curious...which leads to wondering...which leads to me writing slower. And I almost typed which leads to me 'wandering'. Seriously. Do you want me 'wandering'? Baha.  
**Lil:** Will do until this fic is over.  
**YDPP:** ...The thought of putting it up for adoption is scary. I couldn't let anyone else touch this. I'd end up spending all my time harassing them through email.

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE  
You're A Mean One, Mr. House**  
_You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.  
You really are a heel.  
You're as cuddly as a cactus.  
You're as charming as an eel, Mr. Grinch._

* * *

**Thirteen's POV: **

"So how is living with Cameron? " House shouts at you from across the hall, a grin spreading across his face.

Chase stops what he's doing and nearly throws his pen down on the desk at the nurses' station. He glares at you out of the corner of his eye, looking absolutely livid.

"It's fine," you answer. You smile at one of the nurses as you hand her a few papers and walk toward House to ask whether he has any new cases or if you're free to go home.

Stepping in front of you to cut you off, Chase opens his mouth to speak but you feel House grab your arm and pull you away.

"Sorry," House comments. "You two lovebirds can have your little spat when Thirteen is done working." He smirks as Chase walks away.

You stand there in silence before looking at him in shock. "That was nice of you," you say slowly.

"Maybe," he answers. "But this isn't." He hands you a clipboard to take to the clinic.

Huffing, you stare down at the clipboard. You promised Cameron in the car that neither of you would have to be at the hospital very long. "How many hours of clinic duty do you have?" you mutter under your breath, shaking your head.

"However many Cuddy deems necessary to straighten me out," he answers with a shrug. "You can always pass them off to someone else; say Foreman. Just know that I'd be extremely _disappointed_."

Pursing your lips together, you pretend to consider how much his 'disappointment' in you might hurt you. "I think I'll live." Tucking the clipboard under your arm, you walk down the hall in search of Foreman.

"What's a nine letter word for a Christmas plant?" Taub asks, walking up to you with a crossword puzzle book in his hand.

"Mistletoe," you reply, looking around. "Have you seen Foreman?"

"He's not here today," Taub replies. "A four letter word for-"

"Oh." Figures. "Well, House actually told me to give you this." You hold the clipboard facedown and hand it to him. He takes it and before he can look at it or ask what it is, you quickly walk to the ER where you last saw Cameron.

The ER is busier than you expected it to be. It's not mass panic busy, but it's close enough. You spot Cameron off to the side talking to a few other doctors and occasionally pointing at patients. One of them brushes past her and she doesn't even jump. She grasps their arm and directs them elsewhere, trying to do a thousand things at once.

You lean against the wall and watch her, glad you brought her to the hospital even though you didn't want to. She seems to be doing alright now that she's all caught up in her job. You feel almost guilty as you watch her, but you can't help but smile. One of the most beautiful girls you've ever seen is currently living in your house and now you get to watch over her at work and act like it's just to make sure she's doing okay.

Once she looks a bit less busy, you wander over to her. "Are you ready to go?" you ask. "I want to make sure you're okay before we leave though."

"Thirteen!" She seems to let out a breath of relief. "Here. Take, take this." She shoves a clipboard into your hands. "Severe head trauma. Possibly a broken arm."

Taking the clipboard, you look it over and no longer like that you brought her to work. "Fine," you grumble. "I should have just stuck with the clinic."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

How Cameron manages to handle the ER, you'll never know. Three hours later, you're convinced you never want to step foot in the ER again. You'll do _all_ of House's clinic duty if that's what it takes. Every time you finished with one patient, Cameron would hand you another one.

You're currently hiding from her in the lounge, drinking cocoa and helping Kutner and Taub try to figure out Taub's crossword puzzles.

"A circular decoration often hung on doors," Taub says, glancing at you and Kutner.

"Wreath!" you both announce. You grin and point at him. "Ha. I said it first."

"That's not fair. " He frowns and pushes a quarter toward your pile of change. "I'm running out of money."

"I'm going to be rich by the time this is over." You're up to over twenty dollars in change. "My turn." You snatch the book from Taub and go to the next one. "You're a mean one, Mr…"

"Scrooge?" Kutner answers.

You raise a brow at him then look at Taub.

"House?" Taub tries, causing the three of you to laugh.

"Grinch. " You roll your eyes and steal more of their change to add to your pile before tossing the book to Kutner.

"Thirteen, I've been looking all over for you!" Cameron scolds, walking into the lounge. She places a hand on her hip and stares you down as you sink against the couch cushions.

"Ooooh!" Kutner teases you, earning himself a look from Taub clearly stating he's being immature.

Cameron ignores them. "What are you doing anyway?"

"I don't know about them, but I'm making money," you answer, smirking. You scoot over and pat the spot beside you. "Come play. I'm kicking ass."

"That really encourages me to join," she says sarcastically and rolls her eyes. "What are the rules?" She walks over and snuggles beside you on the couch then digs through her pockets and tosses some change and a few dollar bills on the table.

"We don't have rules. We're playing with dollars now?" You grin and place two fives and three tens next to your pile of change. Taub and Kutner look hesitant and you roll your eyes at them. "Come on! Don't be babies."

"My wife is going to kill me." Taub pulls out several dollars and Kutner follows the suit.

"Okay," Kutner says and looks at the book. "A red and white-"

"Candy cane!" Cameron answers quickly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, come on!" you complain. "That's not fair. He didn't even finish!"

"Who's kicking ass now?" Cameron smirks and takes one of your tens. "No rules," she reminds you when you gape at her. "My turn." She takes the book from Kutner and looks it over. "It's the most blank time of the year."

"Wonderful," Wilson answers, walking in. He reaches to take your change and you smack his hands so he steals from Taub instead. "Let's up the stakes," he suggests, taking a seat on the arm of the couch nearest you.

"To what?" Kutner asks. "We're already playing with all of our money."

"Forget the money," Wilson answers. "Losers have to get Cuddy and House Christmas presents from each other." All of you grin in agreement.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Damn." You lose at the last question in the book and glance at everyone's pile of change. Cameron and Wilson have a majority of the money now. "Somehow this was planned."

"Nope." Cameron shakes her head. "Wilson and I both have seventy-five dollars. How much do you have?"

"Twenty," you mutter, shaking your head. "You guys?" You look at Kutner and Taub.

"Five," Taub answers while Kutner holds up a nickel. "We're screwed."

Cameron laughs and rests her head against your shoulder. "Good luck."

"Looks like we're going to the mall tomorrow." You pretend to be bitter about it, but Cameron's smile is enough to make your heart flutter. You like when she smiles and decide you want to make her do it much more often.


	10. Look After You

**YDPP:** Yes. Hahaha. Wilson the secret hustler. xD Bah. I could never ever ever let any of my stuff be adopted. It'd drive me insane. Considering I know what I want to happen and no one else does.  
**Ilessthree: **Yup. I'll continue it till it's finished. Fortunately, I plan on this being rather long. I have a lot in store for it as long as I know people are continuing to read. And ha. I plan on going home and playing a game like that with my brothers now. It reminds me of when I was in Jamaica and we all gambled with Jamaica change (which averages as less than a penny...so we never went broke!).  
**Wonderous: **Glad you enjoyed that line. Fluff is fun...sometimes. Ha.  
**Nameless:** See...look. You won't die of impatience now! Tho...I'm still not sharing what they got each other for Christmas until Christmas!  
**WrongObsession: **Thank you. I happen to have made a lot of plans for this story. So hopefully it continues to be good.  
**Amazon:** Thank you so much for being supportive of me. Enough with the fluff and sweetness tho. Bahaha. I'm still a sadistic author.  
**Roronoa:** Hey...I don't mind if big, old, fat guys with glasses read my fics...as long as they don't try to hit on me or stalk me or something. Maybe Santa is reading (hey...he's big, old, and fat with glasses!) and plans on delivering Remy/Cam to me for Christmas! That's what I'm going to expect for Christmas now...Remy/Cam under my tree in the lingerie mentioned in this chapter. Baha.  
**Wesley:** Well, I'm glad I managed to make you smile! And no...not the ants. Despite that they're very evil. Bad forces such as friends and happy who would very much like me to like boys. I don't think I could compare myself to my shark. Just cause as he was dying, he kept getting stuck to the filter. That's just a weird image of me getting stuck to a filter. Baha. Laughing makes me sound mean...'Cause I cried when he died. Poor Rabidnar! Uh...him...not me. Haha. Yes! Now not only is Wilson a hustler, but Cameron is too! That might have given me an idea. Haha. This chapter...is not very sweet and fluffy.

* * *

**SIGNAL FIRE**

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN  
Look After** **You**  
_When I'm losing my control, the city spins around.  
__You're the only one who knows.  
__You slow it down._

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

If your grocery store visit yesterday with Thirteen hadn't been nerve-wracking enough, the mall was definitely close enough to send you over the edge. The holidays brought multitudes of people and very few seem to care about personal space as they rush to do last minute shopping. You're pressed up against Thirteen's side and she has a hand on your lower back as you follow Kutner and Taub through the mall. You begin to wonder why you even came with them. You did win the game after all. It hits you that you were too scared to be home alone.

"Wilson should have at least told us what to buy," Thirteen complains, glancing in the windows of stores. "Are we supposed to buy something serious or joking?"

"What could we buy that's serious for this?" Kutner asks.

"I don't know," she answers. "Something they might actually like?"

"Where's the fun in that?" Kutner stops outside of Spencer's and peers inside through the window. "Maybe we should stop in here."

"Thirteen's right," you say. "Maybe we should get them something they might like." You don't like the idea of getting them gag gifts for Christmas. Spencer's isn't exactly one of your favorite stores either. "That could still be fun."

"Not _as_ fun," Kutner replies. He and Taub head inside and immediately split up down the different aisles.

Thirteen glances at you and shrugs. "Do you want to go in?" she asks.

"No." You petulantly cross your arms tightly across your chest and vow to stand stubbornly outside. You cough a few times and curse the never-ending tickle in your throat. "I need a drink."

Thirteen nods slightly. "There's a drink stand right over there," she says pointing across the walkway.

"Come with me?" You plead. Glancing over at the line, you wring your hands together. "They're going to run into me and I'm going to jump and-"

"You'll be fine," she assures you. "Go buy yourself something to drink. Your throat is sounding scratchy again." She pauses and frowns slightly for a moment. "I'll be right here."

Weighing your options, you glance back and forth between the drink stand and Thirteen. A smoothie sounds extremely good at the moment but you can't decide whether it's worth the risk of people bumping into you and causing you to panic.

"I'm going to follow Kutner and Taub," Thirteen says slowly. "You can go get a drink or come with me into the store. It's pointless standing around out here."

Letting out a shaky breath through your mouth, you nod slightly. You don't know why you feel like you need her there for comfort. Trying to break away from needing her protection, you agree with your logic which is telling you you'll be fine. "Ok. I'm going to go get a drink. Just don't go too far, okay?"

"I won't," she replies. "I'll be near the door."

The line at the drink stand isn't as bad as you thought it would be. You keep a good foot or so away from the person in front of you. The person who ends up in line behind you is a little too close for your liking, but it's a girl so you're relatively okay. You order a strawberry smoothie then turn to leave and almost run into House. You jump back a few inches and clutch your drink.

"Well, look who's here," House comments, smirking. "Didn't see you there."

"You were standing an inch away from me," you reply, relaxing slightly. "What are you doing here?" The mall is the last place you'd ever expect to see someone like House. You narrow your eyes at him, hoping you're not the reason he's here because he's clearly not doing just some casual shopping.

He lifts his cane points to the left down the walkway.

Turning to find what he's pointing to, you have to glance around for a moment. You look past the long line to see Santa and a few Christmas decorations until your eyes land on someone beside a stand selling glass ornaments. You sigh in exasperation and narrow your eyes at him. "You're stalking Cuddy?"

"It's not stalking," he answers. "I'm watching to see if she buys me anything."

Rolling your eyes, you walk away from the drink stand. "Why?"

"Because I don't want something I'm not going to like," he answers. "You're not following Thirteen around the mall to see if she gets you anything? I'm assuming she's shopping for you or you're shopping for her which is why you're not with her."

"Actually, she just went into a store and I wanted a drink." You hold up your smoothie before taking a few sips of it. The small chips of ice soothe your throat and distract you for a moment. "What do you think Thirteen would like for Christmas?"

House turns to Spencer's and points to the lingerie in the window. They're advertisements of red lace with fake holly between the breast and on the sides of the panties. "Same thing I want. To see you in that."

Cheeks burning, you gaze down at the floor. At one point in time, you may have actually considered that. Now the thought of showing off your body makes your chest tight and your throat constrict. "You're an ass," you whisper, subconsciously tugging your shirt up.

"House, what are you doing?" Cuddy walks over with her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes at him. "Are you okay, Cameron?"

You nod slowly and glance at her. "Thanks," you mumble softly. You're not sure if you're more thankful she asked if you were okay or that she rescued you from House.

"I'm shopping," House says. "That's what most people do at the mall."

"You're not most people," Cuddy says as if he needs the reminder. She places a hand on your back and leaves it there even as you tense. "Where's Dr. Hadley?"

"Shopping," you answer bitterly. You glance up and notice Thirteen watching you from the door. Ashamed, you look away and stare down at your hands. You can practically feel her eyes on you and you suddenly want to just fade away and be anywhere other than where she's looking.

"Leave them alone, House," Cuddy warns. She gently takes you by the arm and leads you away from him to do a little of your own shopping.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Allison, are you sure you're okay?" Thirteen pulls up beside her apartment and parks the car then glances at you in what you can assume is worry.

"I'm fine," you reply. You shrug her hand away as she tries to put it on your shoulder for the fifth time since you left the mall. "I just don't want to be touched right now." You wish you would have just stayed home and not even gone to the mall. You can't believe it never sunk in that Thirteen was practically the same as all the guys. It makes you sick to your stomach to think she might be checking you out. She even helped you in the shower so now she has a mental image of you naked in her head. You doubt she really bothers to think about you in a sexual way. You're too damaged and not pretty enough for that. The thought still makes you feel self-conscious though.

"I don't feel well," you mutter quietly as you open your door and get out of the car. "I think I'm going to go to bed."

"What's wrong? Still your throat?" She gets out of the car and shuts the doors then goes through her keys on her keychain until she finds the one for her apartment.

"Stomach," you answer in a mumble then quickly try to dismiss the topic. "I'm just stressed out. It's okay."

"It might be exhaustion too," she says, walking inside and down the hall. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"Right." You don't remember waking up like she says you do. You definitely don't remember screaming in the middle of the night for the past two nights. Sighing, you clutch the bag that contains the gift Cuddy helped you pick out and follow Thirteen.

Not watching where you're going, you run into Thirteen when she comes to a halt in the middle of the hall. "What are you-" You stop talking when you look up and manage a guttural moan as your stomach does a flip-flop.

Beside Thirteen's apartment door, the word 'slut' is written in large black letters.

Dropping your bag, you turn you back to it and close your eyes tightly. Your throat constricts and you brace yourself against the wall as you try to focus on breathing.

"That was probably directed at me," Thirteen says quietly. You're not sure whether she's being honest or saying it to make you feel better. "Go inside. I'll call the landlord to wash it off."

"What if it was _him_?" you choke. "What if he was _here_?" Your thoughts quickly twist to what if he broke in and was inside waiting for you or something. Sharp pain in your chest causes you to cringe. You start to sink to the floor but Thirteen catches you and forces you to stay standing.

"It wasn't," she answers. "I'll call the police too if it makes you feel better."

"Stop touching me," you beg, trying to pull away. "Please!" Your legs are shaking and you know they won't support you if she lets go but you don't care. "I can't breathe." The switch between not wanting her to touch you and desperately needing her happens in less than a second.

_You struggle against the person holding you and finally manage to break free. It only takes a matter of moments to get back to your car and try to turn the key in the ignition. He grabs you again and drags you back outside, shoving you hard against the ground. _

"_You really thought you could get away?" he asks. He adjusts the ski mask over his face and yanks you to your feet again._

_You're too scared to even think. You try to struggle but he overpowers you and pulls you in a direction opposite of your car._

"I can't breathe. I can't breathe." All you can do is gasp and choke for air. "I can't - I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Thirteen assures you. "You just need to slow down." She managed to get you inside but you're not sure how.

The shame is unbearable and you collapse onto the couch, hiding your face in your hands. You don't want her to touch you. You don't want her to even look at you. Yet at the same time, you need it. Tears begin to leak down your face and you reprimand yourself for crying. Beginning to feel light-headed, you lean forward and sob quietly. "I c-can't breathe." The thought he might be inside plagues your mind again and you begin taking hastened breaths, feeling like you're suffocating. Bile starts to rise in your throat but you manage to choke it back down and your hands start shaking.

Thirteen sits down behind you and pulls you back against her. "Allison," she says firmly. She takes an exaggerated, deep breath for you to copy. "You're going to make yourself pass out." She takes another deep breath.

Part of you wants to pass out. You don't want to feel like you even exist right now. You try to breathe with her anyway but you can't. Stomach disagreeing with you, you attempt to get up but she has a tight grip on you. "Thirteen, please," you beg her. "Please." She doesn't get the hint and you lurch forward as far as possible as you throw up.

"Fuck." She pulls your hair gently back away from your face and places a hand on your back. "Allison. Allison, calm down, Sweetheart."

You choke a few times, finding it even harder to get air into your lungs while you're vomiting. Losing control over your mind and now your body exasperates you. You began to feel detached but your painfully contracting stomach muscles drag you ruthlessly back to reality. Mortification sets in once your stomach stops heaving. "I'm sorry." You sob and wipe at your mouth and nose, trying to shrink back against her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." You know you sound like a broken record, but you can't stop saying it.

"It's alright." She lets your hair fall back over your shoulders and lies down with you, holding you protectively. "It's okay." She takes one more exaggerated breath. "Just try to breathe."

The only thing reminding you how to breathe and at what rate to do it in is the rise and fall of Thirteen's chest against your back. You manage to breathe with her a few times but a knock on the door causes you to lose your nerve again. Covering your face with your arms, you roll to face her and cower. Feeling her tense, you know she's trying to remain calm as the person knocks again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Ilessthree:** Well, you'll at least find out who's at the door this chapter. But...you won't find out who wrote slut on the wall. Cause I'm mean and like making you all wait in agony. -innocentsmile-  
**YDPP: **Yeah...what happened to Cameron is much bigger than it seems. -evillaugh- Seriously. And yes. Wilson and Cameron are totally both hustlers. Hahaha. I would so play games with them. Preferably strip poker. -snickers- I didn't just type that. Nope! Anyway! Happy-dances are not creepy! I was doing one all day. And...I also hope you didn't fail! Eesh! Oh yeah. Thirteen/Chase showdown...I can see it 're gonna break out the scalpels and settle things like doctors. j/k j/k  
**Nameless:** Seriously. I leave it at that. And even meaner...I harass you with it thru aim! Go me! I ain't telling you who wrote it. Nope! You signed off before I gave out some spoilers! House? Sympathetic? He /does/ feel bad...but he /is/ House. Like you said. And I haven't decided what Cam got for 13. Baha.  
**Agajda:** Now that I have an epic plan for this story...I don't think I could leave it without at least letting you all know what happened to Cameron. Not by means of being graphic...but who hurt her. I'm glad you like it...and that the POV is working out. I've never enjoyed writing something not in 3rd person so much. It puts me much more into it while I'm writing it and I hope it puts you all much more into it while reading.  
**Less than 13: **Being sadistic is fun. Which totally randomly reminds me...someone called me insane the other day while we were walking. And there was this long moment of epic silence before I was all in this soft voice, "Being insane is fun." I swear...they jumped like 2 feet away from me. Ha. It'll be awhile till this fic ends. I have lots in store. It'll be longer than WBND. Much longer, probably.  
**Jess (Part 1): **Sorry if my constant emotion switching is confusing. Sometimes I feel like my chapters are bipolar. I don't mean to confuse people. I just want a good amount of several emotions in each chapter. I'll give you a part 2 for your longer review. I always go in order.  
**Eva: **I'm glad you like it!  
**Kj:** Glad you're happy I'm continuing!  
**Kills:** Bahaha. You probably won't guess who hurt her. And I'm glad you like I switched it up a bit and have Remy caring for Cam. When I first started this fic, I had plans to make Remy be the one who was raped. Something changed my mind though.  
**Jess (Part 2): **You're glad you get more me? I'm flattered. Most people try to get rid of me. Haha. And actually...you all did bully me into staying. I started getting epic emails/reviews...and ended up crying so hard I had to call one of my friends to calm me down. Seriously. As pathetic as that is. - There will be more happiness to come...even if it doesn't seem like that now. And aren't House and the Grinch virtually the same? -wink- - Yes, he is fond of Cameron. But (at least in my fic) he doesn't quite know how to handle the situation, simply bc he does care for her. And /thank you/ for reviewing!  
**Audio:** Aw. Thank you!  
**Katchel: **Don't die. If you die, you won't be able to keep reading. And no. I can tell you right now that the word on the wall was not written by House. As much of an ass as he is, he cares for Cameron too much to do something like that.  
**Amazon: **We're getting snooooow! Vanamo encouraged me to brag about that. Sadism pwns. It's amusing watching you all whine about how mean I am. Hahaha. All I can say is that House was really stalking Cuddy at the mall. Seriously. You're all reading too much into that! Haha. Bah. I want to hug Cam as I write. /fail  
**Ina:** No need to be sorry!!!! But you're forgiven anyway! Hey...we're not even! I'm the writer! I'm not supposed to be curious! Anyway...yeah. This whole thing actually started to stem from an idea separating hospital/home. Tho...I can't really explain it. If I put it into play, you'll see what I mean. I'd just confuse you now. Chase is dumb. And Remy is certainly charmed by Cameron. Who wouldn't be? - You're the only person I know to not be happy about being right! And dude...okay...your review kinda scared me. I think you read my mind. You'll see why when you read the chapter. And yes! Feel free to ruffle my hair. Haha.  
**Roronoa: **Yay sadism! I'm happy you all think I'm mean. Seriously. I enjoy it. Lol. I try. So many questions! That I refuse to answer 'cause I'm sadistic like that. Have fun guessing!  
**Lollilops:** I'm glad you like it! And that I can make you all think things and then change them. Bahaha.  
**Wesley: **Don't throw your laptop. You might need that to read my updates. That reminds me of this LOST cartoon I always watch. Where the guy is making a theme song and at the end he ends up shooting his laptop. And it's all-  
Guy:Can I get a computer back on expenses?  
Guy 2: No.  
Guy: Could you call up the IT guy?  
Guy 2: You're not an employee here.  
Guy: Yeah. Would rebooting it get rid of the bullet holes?  
Guy 2: Seriously doubt it.  
Guy: Maybe I can find out how to fix it on the inter- I can't get the internet. It's broken.  
Just thought I'd share that. LOL. So if you damage your laptop due to my fanfic...you won't get a new one. xD

Holy review! Keep 'em coming! Haha.

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

"It's okay. It's okay." They're the only words that come to mind and you barely even realize you're saying them. Cameron is curled into a ball beside you sounding like she's choking on air, someone is still knocking on the door, and you're overwhelmed.

"Remy!" A female voice yells from the other side of the door. "What the hell happened to the wall?!"

You let out a sigh of relief and close your eyes. "It's just my landlord." Pulling away from Cameron's grasp, you sit up and crawl over her. Making sure you don't step in the pool of vomit now soaking into your carpet, you get to your feet and walk swiftly to the door. It's hard to leave Cameron alone crying on the couch, but if it was the person who hurt her that wrote on the wall then it needs to be dealt with as soon as possible.

The mess of red hair you see through the peephole confirms your suspicions that it is indeed your landlord and you open the door then slip out and shut it behind you. "Rebecca!" You practically want to pounce on her right there in the hallway because you're relieved it's her and not anyone else. Gripping the doorknob, you lean your head back against the door.

"Late night last night?" she asks, raising her eyebrows as she stares down at your legs.

It isn't until you notice what she's looking at that you realize there's vomit down the side of your pants leg. You figure Cameron probably threw up on herself and it got on you when you switched positions with her, which meant you were both going to have to wash up and change clothes.

"Hello? Earth to Remy!" Rebecca crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at you. "What is wrong with you these last few days?"

"I have a stalker," you lie. You don't want to tell her about Cameron because you figure Cameron wouldn't want you to spread the news even to a stranger. "And I guess he found where I live." You motion to the wall. "Look, I'm really busy right now. Can you please take care of it?"

"You owe me, Remy," she warns you and shoots you a glare.

"I know. I know." You run your fingers through your hair. "Not right now though." You grab the bag Cameron dropped in the hall then go back inside and lock the door behind you.

"R-Remy, I c-can't breathe." Cameron is sitting up again, arms wrapped around her chest. "It h-hurts."

"I know it does." You place the bag on the floor and walk over to her, resuming your seat behind her. She's a mess. It's now you notice she threw up on her lap and down the front of her pants. She sounds like she's panting and her constant sniffling isn't working because her nose is still running. Holding her against your chest, you fight the urge to kiss her cheek in attempt to comfort her. "It'll stop. Just breathe with me."

"I'm sorry," she chokes, uncrossing her arms and allowing you to hold her tighter. "I - I…"

"I don't know what you're sorry about, but whatever it is, we'll deal with it later," you mumble in her ear. "Right now, all you need to do is breathe. One step at a time." You take a deep breath and let it out. Teaching something to her as natural as breathing comes across as tedious and overwhelming. The only way you know how to show her is to have her imitate you. "Okay?" You breathe again and relief washes over you when she manages to breathe with you. "Again." You take several more deep breaths before it doesn't seem like such a struggle for her.

You sit with her in silence for a few minutes, giving her a chance to just breathe and calm herself down. You're careful not to breathe too fast because she chooses to match the rise and fall of your chest with her own. "Can I help you get cleaned up?" you ask finally, using your thumb to brush a few tears off her cheek. "We can just jump in the shower quick."

"I don't want to get in the shower with you," she whispers, pulling away slightly. "You'll look at me."

"I've already seen you in the shower," you remind her. "It's not a big deal. We're both girls. I won't even look. We both need to wash off though."

"It is a big deal!" she exclaims. "I don't want you looking at me like _that_!"

"Like what?" you ask, completely at a loss. "I tho-"

"Like House said," she mutters and hides her face with her hands. "You saw me before because I forgot you were bi."

"Oh," is all you can get out. Flustered, you let go of her and move so you're not behind her anymore. "Okay. I'll, uh, wash off with the kitchen sink. Sorry." You walk toward the kitchen, shoving your hands in your pocket.

"Remy," she calls after you, her voice think with tears again. "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," you assure her. "Go get in the shower." You listen to her footsteps and aren't sure how to react. It's hard even for you to tell what you're feeling because you weren't expecting that. Stopping by the sink, you unbutton your jeans and slide them off, leaving them on the floor.

The sink water is burning hot by the time you're satisfied with the temperature. You realize you scolded Cameron already for trying to scald herself, but you feel slightly numb from her words. Numb and guilty. Maybe even a little angry, you decide. Unfortunately, you're not sure who or what you're angry at. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, you rip them off the roll then soak them in water before wiping off the spots where the vomit had seeped through your pants leg.

It's hard to believe it never even came to your mind that your sexuality might make her uncomfortable. Her words offended you, but you can't help but think it's your fault. You should have done the right thing and handed her off to Cuddy when you had the opportunity. Instead, now you think of yourself as selfish, trying to take care of her yourself. In a sudden burst of anger, you shove the dish-rack off the edge of the counter. The two plates in it shatter and you add cleaning the kitchen floor to cleaning the living room floor.

Cleaning can wait. Tossing the paper towels behind the sink, you place your elbows on the counter and lower your head to your hands. "Good job, Remy," you scold yourself. It sinks in that you actually liked being a source of comfort for Cameron. Feeling needed and depended on was a good feeling. Of course, you just had to ruin it though. You just had to fuck up. You can barely handle living yourself, let alone the responsibility of someone else.

For once in your life, you feel ashamed of your sexuality. You make a decision to keep your distance from Cameron because it isn't as if you can just suddenly decide you're not attracted to her or other women. It figures it's something you can't control that makes her uncomfortable around you. Feeling completely inadequate, all you can think about is how much you screwed everything up.

Lifting your head, you reach over and turn the water off. Taking your jeans with you, you walk back to your bedroom and toss them in the hamper. You consider putting on shorts because you're apartment is rather warm, but you settle for a pair of drawstring pants instead. Before closing your closet, you pull out the carpet cleaner then drag it to the living room to clean up the floor.

The loud noise it makes distracts you and you end up practically scrubbing a hole down through your floor. Maybe you should call Cuddy to come pick her up, you decide. It would be easier than making her uncomfortable. Cameron could go Cuddy's, you could take your tree down, return the gift you bought her, and continue with your life. The thought makes you feel miserable. You know if you do that, the Ecstasy in your medicine cabinet and Rebecca will both be calling your name. Everything could go back to normal with you enjoying the nightlife and picking up random women from the bar.

"What happened to the kitchen?"

You don't even realize Cameron is already out of the shower until you hear her voice. Looking up, you watch her standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "What?" you ask, turning off the carpet cleaner even though you know what she said.

"I asked what happened to the kitchen?" she repeats, slowly running a hand up and down her arm. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. "There are dishes broken."

"They fell off the counter," you answer. "You should go lie down." She's dressed in those damn reindeer pajamas again and you're pissed at yourself for still finding her adorable.

"I feel a little better now," she answers though her voice is wavering. "I was thinking we could put the candy canes on the tree. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You drop the carpet cleaner brush on the floor and get to your feet. "You can decorate the tree. I'm going to clean up the kitchen." Walking past her, you try not to look at her.

"Do you need help?" she asks, following you. "I - I can get the broom. I can-"

"I got it," you say a bit harsher than you mean to. "I'll call Cuddy for you once I get the glass picked up."

"I said I'm _sorry_," she chokes. "I wasn-"

"Can we stop?" You ask, shooting her a look. "We don't need to talk about it." You turn and grab your broom, accidentally knocking over a picture on the wall with the handle. "Damn it." You jump back as the glass shatters.

"My throat hurts." She clears her throat but it sounds fake.

"There are drinks in the refrigerator," you reply. "I'm a little busy." Unhooking the dustpan from the broom, you kneel down and begin to sweep up the glass. Realizing the picture was never that great to look at, you put that on top of the dustpan to throw out.

"I need Tylenol," she replies. "I don't know where it is."

"You took Tylenol before you went to the mall," you reply. "It lasts twelve hours."

"I know, but I-"

"Cameron, you're trying to get attention." You glance up at her and frown then stand and dump the glass into the trashcan. You watch her out of the corner of your eye as she walks out of the kitchen then you set to cleaning up the broken plates too.

Cameron is sitting in front of your tree when you walk back into the living room. She has the bag of miniature candy canes the two of you bought at the store yesterday on her lap but she only put two of them on the tree. Clutching the bag with one hand, she's wiping away tears with the other.

Walking over, you take a seat beside her and grab a handful of candy canes to hang. After hanging three of them, you realize she's not really even paying attention. "You look tired. You should take a nap. I'll call Cuddy once you wake up."

Her face contorts and she hides she's crying with her hand as she gets to her feet, letting the bag of candy canes fall to the ground. "Whatever you want," she replies in a shaky voice before making her way back toward your bedroom.

"Right." You purse your lips together and stare at your tree for several moments. You realize she's probably thinking she can't do anything right, but you're feeling the same about yourself. Head starting to hurt, you get to your feet. "I'm going out!" you call after her. "I'll lock the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you grab your keys and walk into the hall. It takes triple checking the door to make sure it's locked and Cameron is safe. More than anything, you want to rush back in there and make sure she's safe yourself, but you don't. Instead, you walk down the hall until you get to the last door and knock.

"Figured you'd show up," Rebecca comments once she opens the door. "I just had this feeling that things weren't go-"

"Shut up." Needing to feel in control, you push her inside and crash your lips against hers, kicking the door shut behind the two of you. You need a release and knowing you can make someone feel good if even for a few moments provides an escape.


	12. Chapter 12

**Nameless: **Bahahaha. So...I officially enjoy teasing you on aim then seeing your reaction in your reviews. And...your poem was priceless. xD -sticks out tongue then runs-  
**Wesley: **Aw. Wesley, you decided to become anonymous again? Well...being anonymous for the sake of being anonymous won't get you special mention. Ahaha. -hearts- My story comes with a disclaimer on my profile now. So...I can't be charged for broken laptops or bones. Haha.  
**Wonderous: **Thank you!  
**YDPP:** Well...I'm glad you enjoy reading the angst...'cause I enjoy writing it. Baha. And I'm not telling who the comment was from. Lol. Even if you beg, cry, scream, whatever else.  
**Amazon:** Ah. The beach. Know that I'll spend this weekend outside with my sled/snowboard and snowboots! Too bad the tube got a hole in it from running my brother into a thorn bush last year. - I'd say I'm sorry about the story...but I'm not. -sticks out tongue- Send Rebecca to Cuddy? Haha. Nah. Cuddy can go get it on with House. I'd tell you not to feel sad...but if you were happy, I wouldn't be doing my job as a writer.  
**Kj: **Yay for being addicted to my story! Huzzah! Glad you're liking it!  
**Ilessthree:** Yes. Being sadistic, I must do this to you. It's in my job description as a fanfic author. --  
**Eva:** Yeah. -pets Thirteen-  
**Roronoa:** Aw. Don't be angry at either of them. Go take all your anger out on Rebecca!  
**Ina: **Haha. Yeeaah. Thirteen kissed her and shoved her in a room just to usefully 'talk' to her. -wink- Sarcastic humor pwns. And remember...I have made no promises to make her and Cam and couple. Just sayin'.  
**Less than 13: **Being insane is fun though! Last night...my brother and I drew on fake mustaches and had a Frexicanglish War with toy swords. (I should send you a pic. Bahaha.) Insanity is the best. And I'm subtly everywhere...which is much less scary than it sounds... Ha. I'm glad you're glad. xD

Ahhh...and special thanks to Vanamo and Wonderous 'cause they help edit this fic.

So. Here's my plan. This chapter now. The Christmas Eve chapt either very late the 22nd or early the 23rd and the Christmas one either very late the 24th or early the 25th. Anyway! Enjoy! You all are the best, btw.

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

As you walk into Remy's bedroom, you try to will yourself to stop crying. The only thing you can think of though is how badly you just screwed everything up. After stealing one of her sweatshirts out of the closet, you crawl up onto the bed and curl up on your side under the blankets. Cuddling with one of her shirts isn't even close to cuddling with her. All of your nerves are completely frayed and soft sobs wrack your body. For awhile, you're convinced you might throw up again because your stomach still hurts like hell from getting yourself so worked up over everything.

Sleep refuses to come even though you're so exhausted that you can't even keep your eyes open. Your head hurts and you're afraid you're going to end up with a migraine. Everything feels like it's going wrong and most of it is far beyond your control. Curling up tighter, you bury your face against Remy's sweatshirt and just focus on breathing.

You can't believe what you said to her. It's hard to believe you even thought it let alone allowed the words to come out of your mouth. You've never been so ashamed of something you said in your entire life. After all she's been doing for you, hurting her feelings is the last way you want to repay her. A simple apology doesn't even seem like enough, but you don't know what else to do. Hitting the bed a few times, you try to get out the anger you have for yourself. It doesn't work and you curl your arms up over your head and just cry.

It's impossible to think of a time before this that you've been so distraught and dismayed. The only thing that even comes close is when your husband died. The range of emotions that came with grief was definitely overwhelming but it was nothing like this. This surpassed normal grief. Your mind is jumbled with thoughts that words can't even manage to convey.

It's at least thirty or forty minutes before you hear the front door open and Remy yelling that she's back. Some of the fear dissipates but only for a moment. It hits you that she's going to call Cuddy now and you want her to leave again just so you can have more time to figure out what to do. Only, you know you won't even bother trying to come up with a plan because you can't handle how selfish you are by staying.

You can hear her walking toward the bedroom but her footsteps stop before they get too close. Forcing your eyes open, you notice her hovering in the doorway looking at her cell phone. Her features are completely emotionless but her eyes tell an entirely different story. The look in her eyes is almost dejected and lonely.

"I'm going to call Cuddy now for you." Her voice is void of any feeling.

"I don't want to go to Cuddy's," you choke out before you can stop yourself. You're filled with trepidation as she dials the number on her phone then holds it up to her ear. "Remy, I want to stay here."

"Don't call me that," she replies, slouching sideways against the doorframe in a way that makes her seem exhausted.

You rub your hands together nervously. Even though Remy is younger than you, her certainty and control make you feel like a child. "Thirteen, I-"

"Stop," she warns and narrows her eyes at you as if she's angry, but you see right past it. It hurts you how bad you managed to hurt her feelings. "Dr. Cuddy?" she speaks into the phone. It's almost scary how aloof her voice sounds. "Could you come get Cameron?"

Closing your eyes again, you try to pretend like this is all just a dream and you'll wake up to Remy telling you everything is okay. Counting sheep in attempt to drift off, you tune out the rest of Remy's conversation with Cuddy. Listening to what time Cuddy is coming or bothering to think of packing your things isn't something you can care about right now when you're already overwhelmed.

It feels like you've gotten to a point where you're too tired to even sleep. Opening your eyes once more, you notice Remy already left the room. Needing to see her before you leave, you shakily sit up then get out of bed. After a moment of consideration, you hug her sweatshirt tightly for comfort and take it with you as you walk to the living room.

She's sitting on her couch with her face hidden against her hands but quickly lifts her head when she realizes you're in the room. She glances at you then faces the Christmas tree, her eyes following the train as it does circles around the base.

The bag you brought home from the mall is sitting near the door. "Tomorrow is Christmas Eve," you remind her quietly as you walk over to it. After a moment of digging around, you pull out a white, fairly large box from your gifts. "I want you to have this."

"I don't want it," she answers. "Take it and get your money back."

"I don't want my money back." You walk over and stand in front of her and offer her the box. "I didn't know what to get you." Letting go of the box with one hand, you lift your other hand to wipe at your eyes. "Please, take it."

"Just take it back to the store, Cameron," she answers, not even looking at the box. Sighing, she moves to stand but you step in front of her.

"My name is _Allison_," you remind her. "Please." You push the box toward her, trying to let her know you don't plan on returning it. "If you don't like it, I'll give you the receipt and you can take it back. I bought it for you. I want you to have it before I go. Even if you don't want it as a Christmas present, accept it as a thank you for letting me stay here or an I'm sorry I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." She takes the box and places it on her lap, just staring down at it.

"It opens up," you try to joke but neither of you smile. Sniffling quietly, you rub at your nose then sit down on the coffee table so you're facing her.

It feels like several minutes before she finally decides to open it. Carefully, she opens the top flap of the box and works around the bubble wrap as she pulls out the 13 inch high Thomas Kinkade City Sidewalks Glass Christmas Tree to match her little village. "My God, Allison, how much did you pay for this?" she asks, staring at it.

"Cost doesn't matter," you answer, not about to tell her you spent $200 on it. It would indeed make a beautiful addition to her village. The tree had four separate levels. Beneath each level of branches were miniature stores and people. "Watch," you comment as she puts it on the table. You push a button on the base and the tree lights up, starting with the star on top and working its way down through all the shop windows. The people begin going around in a circle and Silver Bells begins to play.

She traces her fingers around part of the base then sits back and places her hands on her knees. "Allison," she says slowly. Her cold, distant features soften and she begins to look almost as tired as you feel.

"I'm sorry if you don't like it. There was a stand selling things from Hawthorne Village and I thought about you." Then again, she's one of the only things you find yourself thinking about lately. You reach to turn it off but she places her hand over the button to stop you. Your fingers brush hers and you quickly pull away.

"It's beautiful," she replies, not taking her eyes off of it. She moves her hand to touch one of the layers of branches then pulls away. "I don't deserve this."

"Of course, you do," you answer. There's a knock on the door and you stare down at the floor as you grip the sweatshirt you're holding. Your chest tightens and you fight to remain calm, wanting to just stay with Remy.

"I'll get it," Remy says. She turns off the tree and stands. Her hand brushes against your arm but you can't tell whether it's be accident or on purpose.

Turning to watch, you feel a small sense of relief as she looks through the peephole before answering the door. Swallowing, you divert your gaze to the floor as Cuddy walks in. Your jaw quivers and you quickly clench it to make it stop.

"Go lay down, girls," Cuddy says first thing, seeming to be observing both of you. "You look exhausted."

"Can both of you just leave?" Remy asks. It appears as if she's trying to be emotionless again, but she's failing. "I'm going to go to the hospital soon."

"Not like that you aren't," Cuddy replies. "Get some sleep. I'm going to make the two of you something to eat."

You're happy to oblige. After a moment of considering the couch and the bed, you stand and walk back to the bedroom. If Remy doesn't want to join you, you'll just move to the couch. You hope she doesn't decide to take the couch just because you chose the bed though.

It's almost ten minutes later when Remy finally walks into the room. Looking rather grumpy, she walks over to the bed. "I'm just getting a pillow," she states, reaching for the one you're not using.

Grabbing her arm, you shake your head. "Stay here." Sliding your fingers under her shirt sleeve, you stroke her arm and furrow your brows when she looks away from you. "It's been a really long day already. Let's not fight anymore."

"I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable." Seeming hesitant, she sits down on the edge of the bed and glances around the room. "I'm alright on the couch." She pulls at a loose string on the pillow and glances down at the floor.

"I didn't mean what I said," you tell her. "House was being an ass at the mall and his words got stuck in my head. I wasn't thinking and they slipped out. I'm sorry. You're the only person that makes me feel comfortable." You let go of her arm then pull the blankets back and pat the spot beside you.

Rubbing her forehead, she glances at the spot on the bed then moves to lay down. "If you want me to leave, I will." She moves so she's beside you and rolls onto her side so the two of you are facing.

"I don't want you to leave." You cover the both of you up then scoot close enough that your foreheads and noses are touching. She seems hesitant so you guide her arm to your waist then wrap her in a tight hug.

-----

The sound of a door closing snaps you awake sometime later and you quickly open your eyes, glancing around the room.

"Sorry," Remy apologizes quickly. "I didn't mean to shut it so loud." She walks over to her dresser and grabs a brush, running it through her wet hair several times.

"It's okay." Stifling a yawn, you sit up and run your fingers through your hair. "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour," she answers. "I got a shower then came to wake you up. Cuddy made soup and put it in the refrigerator."

"How long have I been sleeping?" you ask, glancing at the clock. "It's nearly seven."

"Three hours?" she guesses. "Four?"

Still tired, you pull your knees to your chest and rest your head against your legs. "Can we just go back to bed?"

"You need to eat," she replies.

"My stomach still hurts," you reply, shaking your head. Sleep is calling you, food is not.

"Because you threw up earlier and you haven't had anything all day besides a smoothie," Remy says. She puts the brush back down on the dresser and walks over to the bed then sits beside you. "Come on, Allison, please don't argue right now."

You realize that you're causing her a considerable amount of stress and she probably doesn't even feel well either. A new rush of guilt sinks in. Maybe she should have sent you to Cuddy's. Trying not to think that way, you nod and stretch then stand up. Remy gets up too and you follow her out of the bedroom, stopping in the living room.

"Where did these come from?" you ask, eyeing a few Christmas DVDs on the coffee table. Picking up The Grinch, you look it over.

"Cuddy brought them," she explains as she walks into the kitchen to heat up the soup. "She left a note that said to try and relax for awhile and she'll pick you up tomorrow if she needs to."

"Oh." Walking over to the DVD player, you study it for a moment to decide how to work it then kneel down and put the DVD in. "Can we eat in here?" Not waiting for an answer, you go back to the bedroom then return with all the blankets from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Remy asks, peeking in the room and watching you pile up blankets and pillows on the floor. "I have a couch, you know?"

"I know." You turn on the TV and skip the DVD to the main menu so you can just press play when she comes back in.

"Ok." She sounds unsure but lets you go and disappears into the kitchen again before coming back out with two bowls of soup. "What are we watching?" After handing you one of the bowls, she tries to adjust the blankets then sits down on top of them.

"The Grinch," you answer, snuggling beside her and hitting play. You cover the two of you up then balance the bowl of soup on your lap. "Maybe we'll go into work tomorrow with a better understanding of House."

Remy snorts and shakes her head with a slight smile. "You could be onto something." She adjusts one of the pillows behind her and slouches back against the front of the couch. "This is pretty comfortable. Why even have furniture?"

"Exactly." After eating a few spoonfuls of soup, you realize it makes you feel slightly better instead of worse. The movie starts and you stare at the screen for a few moments before glancing over at her. "Do you really want me to leave?"

"Do you ever wonder what life would be like if House's heart grew three sizes?" She stares at the TV and wipes at her chin as some of the broth escapes from her spoon and misses her mouth.

"Remy." You frown slightly, waiting for an answer.

Letting out a breath, she glances at you then looks down. After a moment of making a clinging noise by hitting her spoon against the side of her bowl, she shakes her head. "No." Her voice is quieter than you know she means it to be and maybe even a bit sad.

"Good," you reply lightly, shifting positions so you're leaning against her, "because I really like it here with you." Out of the corner of your eye, you notice her trying to fight a smile. Even if you do cause her a lot of extra worry, you're sure she likes it here with you too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Eva:** Glad you thought so!  
**Kills: **Yay. I'm glad my fanfic could make things better!  
**Roronoa: **Hm. I don't think I've ever hit a character with a bus before. I'll keep that in mind. Maybe not for Rebecca...but still! Ha. I don't know if I'll make them a couple or not. Part of me is saying no.  
**Vanamo: **If you wanna write it for me...be my guest. Lol. I'm so lazy...and this does not help!  
**Ina: **Thinking outloud where I can read it is the best. Baha. I'm not sending Rebecca to you! You'll kill her. Hahahaha.  
**Wesley: **Cameron does not know about it. And no promises on me making them a couple. Seriously. I'm glad my writing is good enough to make you review. xD And I like talking with you guys! It's great!  
**YDPP: **...You say you love it cause it makes me happy?! Lol. Just suggesting reasons. And I hope your power won't go out. That'd be sad! If the Grinch's heart grew...why not House's?! And there's some hot chocolate in this chapter...sorta.  
**Nameless: **I totally need a poem about this chapter. -rofl- And I'm only torturing one of them! Yay!  
**JB:** Naaah. Cam and Remy have to be together for Christmas! And thanks.  
**Kj:** Glad you liked the gift. Took me long enough to decide on. Ha.  
**Wonderous:** Thank you!  
**Audio:** Awww. -egoboost- Thank you!  
**Less than 13: **Well, obviously from the pictures, we used tape to do the mustaches and stuff. Much easier than buying fake ones or painting ourselves! Tho...I could definitely see us painting each other. I don't do pink and fuzzy. -twitch- I'm a dark and twisty kind of person.  
**Ilessthree: **Apparently I'm in a Christmasy mood too. I didn't even plan for this fic to take place around Christmas. Hm. Happy to make your days better!  
**Amazon:** It's not /that/ cold. At least not where I am. But then again...I don't really ever get cold. I'm wearing a cute dress for Christmas too. So...xPPP More angst! But...you all get another treat this chapter too. Cause you're all so good at reviewing. -grin-

Also. I have two very hypothetical questions, guys. Chances are neither of these'll happen, but if they did:

1. Because I already used a car crash in WBND, would it turn you off if I used another one in the very far future in this fic?  
2. Say Cam/13 did end up in a relationship and things got M-rated. Would you rather the writing be Cam's POV or Remy's POV?  
Input would be greatly appreciated!

Posting now bc I won't be around all day today and most of tomorrow.

Oh...my only excuse for this chapter is all the Mocha I was drinking before writing it. Heh.

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

The normal smell of disinfectant in the hospital has been replaced by peppermint, pine, and other festive smells you can't quite put your finger on. The decorations at the annual Christmas party aren't quite as extravagant this year without Cameron helping put them up but everyone still seems cheery and happy for the holidays.

You stand in the doorway with Cameron, watching House over near a table examining the gifts on it. You'd bet a few hundred dollars he was secretly switching nametags on the presents and you wonder who will end up with the gag gifts that were brought for him and Cuddy. "Ready to go yet?" you question, wondering why you even bothered to show up in the first place.

"We just got here," Cameron replies. "Do you really want to spend Christmas Eve at home alone?"

You want to tell her that you wouldn't be alone, but she's already wandering off. Her comfort in the hospital and around most her coworkers comes as a relief. Her avoidance of the guys is noticeable but there's enough women around that it doesn't really matter.

"This is even duller than it was last year," Kutner comments, approaching you from the side. He adjusts the Santa hat on his head then takes a sip of the cocoa he's holding. "Taub and I are hooking up an X-box in the lounge. We were waiting for you."

Glancing at him, you smirk at his hat then return your gaze to Cameron. She looks beautiful in the red sweater she's wearing with her hair falling in loose curls over her shoulders. "I should probably stay here," you reply. You don't want to get too far incase something happens and Cameron decides she needs you. You enjoy feeling needed and like you're protecting her.

Kutner stands there in silence for a moment then follows your gaze to Cameron. "I'm sure Cuddy's keeping an eye on her too," he tries to convince you. "You look like you could use a break."

Cuddy seems to be keeping an eye on House, but you suppose he's the only one Cameron needs some protection from anyway. Videogames do sound like a better way to spend the evening than chatting with co-workers you barely even know. "I didn't bring any money."

"Taub's wife gave him hell for gambling with us," Kutner says. "He's not allowed to place bets anymore."

"Where's the fun in that?" Deciding the cocoa he's holding smells really good, you make your way over to the stand with all the snacks to get yourself a cup. "What games did you bring?" You get yourself a cup of cocoa and a few cookies.

"We brought Halo, MLB SlugFest, Farcry, and Ghost Recon," he replies, grabbing a brownie then refilling his cup with hot chocolate. "We're not playing Ghost Recon with you though."

"Because I kicked your asses last time?" you ask with a smug grin before biting the head off of a gingerbread man.

"I would have beaten you if Taub didn't steal the controller," Kutner defends himself. "Are you going to play or not?"

With one last glance at Cameron, you nod your head. She seems content standing about ten feet away from Wilson as the two of them chat. "I'll just have to beat you on Farcry this time."

"At least I'll beat Taub," he says. He takes a tray and begins to fill it with snacks. "We should take food with us."

"A monkey could beat Taub," you crush his ego and help him pile cookies and brownies on the tray for the three of you. You finish the cookie you were eating then glance around to make sure no one is watching before the two of you sneak out of the room. "You should have brought your Wii."

"Cuddy banned it from the hospital," Kutner replies. "Taub forgot to strap the controller to his wrist and we broke one of the TVs."

"Where was I when this happened?" you ask, grinning. You walk into the lounge and plop down on the couch beside Taub. "Tell me you look like you're sulking because you're going to lose."

"We've been caught," Taub replies with a sigh. He points to a paper covering the outlets on the wall that says, 'Not For Video Games. Get Back To The Party. I Will Check On You After The Wii Incident. - Cuddy.'

"Damn." You get to your feet again and steal one of the cookies off the tray Kutner is holding. "What now?" You were looking forward to avoiding the party and being anti-social.

"Well, I take it you got your suspenders down from the tree on your way in," Taub answers, taking a brownie.

Nearly choking, you glare at him. "What?"

"You didn't notice the Frosty the Snowman decoration being hung from one of the branches with them?" Kutner asks, grinning. His grin fades when you take a step toward him. "It was House's idea. How else would we have gotten in your locker?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Taub defends himself which leads to bickering between him and Kutner.

You walk to the window and glance outside, your eyes widening. Frosty is indeed playing Hangman with your suspenders. Making plans to replace Frosty with Taub, Kutner, and House, you cross your arms tightly across your chest and turn to face them. "Go take that down," you demand. "Before one of you is tied there in place of the snowman."

Kutner puts the tray of food down on the table. "We might need some help," he says. "It was hard enough getting it up there."

"I can't believe you guys." Already planning your revenge, you place your cup down then push past the two of them and lead the way out of the hospital. A few people are standing by the tree snickering but they quickly leave when the three of you arrive.

Kutner stands beside you for a moment, seeming to admire his handiwork. "I forgot my jacket inside," he says. "And my camera." He turns to leave but you grab him by the arm to stop him. "Alright, alright." He approaches the tree and grips on of the branches, trying to swing his foot up onto it. "It's too cold to hold onto."

Taub goes to help give him a boost but Kutner slips and they both fall to the snowy ground.

You glare at them. "Move." Using your foot, you make them roll out of the way then hoist yourself up onto the lowest branch. "Don't we have a ladder?"

"The maintenance guy took it back," Taub explains. "Don't slip."

"I'm not going to slip." The next branch is rather flimsy and you have to use the one above it to help support yourself so it doesn't break. "So you did use a ladder to get him up here?"

The two of them glance at each other. "For the most part," Taub answers.

Groaning, you shake your head. The branch under your feet makes a cracking noise and you quickly swing your feet up so you're hanging on the branch above it. After inching forward like a sloth, you unhook your suspenders from the branch and let Frosty fall to the ground. It misses Kutner's head by a few inches and you frown in disappointment. Letting your feet drop back down, you try to put as little weight on the branch beneath you as possible. It snaps anyway and you shriek, clutching tightly to the branch above it.

Taub lets out a few muffled curse words when the branch hits him in the face. He glares up at you and rubs his cheek, leaving a trail of blood across his face.

"Oh, shit," you curse, swinging your dangling feet and realizing there isn't a branch within reach. "Guys, help."

"What are we supposed to do?" Kutner asks. He glances at Taub. "I'll give you a boost."

"There is no way. You're going up there and getting her down," Taub replies. "You hung it up there. I'll give you a boost."

"Someone get up here!" You arm slips and scrapes against the tree bark and you quickly retighten your grip. "Go get the ladder!" You consider dropping but you're high enough off the ground that you doubt you'd land on your feet.

"The maintenance guy could have taken it anywhere," Kutner answers. He grabs onto the lowest branch and tries to hoist himself up with the help of Taub. He ends up standing on Taub's shoulders before successfully getting on the branch. "This was a lot easier before," he mutters, clinging for dear life to the bark.

"Stand up and help," you demand. You try to kick him but your legs aren't long enough. "I'm going to fall." Fortunately, you're too pissed off to be afraid. "Kutner, I swear…"

"I'm trying!" He slowly gets to his feet and supports himself with the trunk of the tree. Reaching up, he places his hands on your waist. "Alright. Just drop and I'll catch you."

"Are you _sure _you're going to catch me?" you ask. "Maybe we should figure out a new plan."

"I'll catch you," he answers. "I swear."

It's either not believe him and fall for sure or believe him and have a slight chance you won't fall. You sigh quietly and glance at the sky then look down and slowly let go. Your shirt gets caught on the branch and throws both of you off balance. Kutner lands on top of Taub and you crash into Frosty, breaking right through the hard plastic.

Sharp pains begin to shoot up your arm as soon as the shock wears off. Kutner tries to help you up but you shove him away and get up yourself. The broken plastic left cuts from your hand all the way up to your elbow and tears begin to burn your eyes when you realize how painful it is to move your wrist.

"Is she crying?" Taub whispers as if only Kutner should hear.

"I'm not crying," you snap. It's a lie and you find yourself blinking away tears. Your entire arm is throbbing and blood is beginning to leave little dots on the snow. The three of you stand there staring at each other for what feels like forever. Taub looks guilty and Kutner just looks shocked. You're the first one to move. You grab your suspenders then cradle your arm to your chest and walk back inside.

"Remy, I was looking fo-Oh my God." Cameron rushes toward you and grabs you by your good arm. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm fine," you assure her. She places two of her fingers near your wrist and you flinch, quickly pulling away from her. "Don't _touch_ it."

"Sorry," she apologizes hastily. "I think you sprained it. You might need an x-ray." She turns to face the door as a disheveled Kutner and Taub walk inside, Taub bleeding from the face where the branch hit him. "Did you guys get into a _fight_?"

"Yeah," you reply sarcastically. "Cuddy wouldn't let us play x-box so we decided to take the action outside." You roll your eyes. "We were climbing a tree."

"Why were you climbing a-"

"Don't even ask," you cut her off. Glancing down at your arm, you frown as the blood soaks through your shirt. "I'm going to get some Band-aids then we can leave."

"Remy, you probably need stitches," Cameron replies, placing a hand on your back and guiding you toward one of the nearest exam rooms.

"I don't need stitches." You place pressure one on of the deeper cuts, trying to keep what blood is in you from joining the blood that's out. The pain causes you to blink back a few more tears. "I can take care of it."

"How did you get all of these cuts just from climbing a tree?" she questions.

"It was like the return of Frosty the Snowman," Kutner jokes. "You should see the damage she did to him though."

Spinning around, you take a few steps toward him but Cameron curves an arm around your waist to hold you back and Taub jumps in front of Kutner to protect him. "If you wouldn't have hung him up there to begin with," you start in a dangerously low voice, but Cameron drags you into a room.

"Sit down," she says, shaking her head. "Your cuts need stitches and your wrist needs wrapped."

Staring at your arm, you take a seat on the edge of the bed and shake your head. Two of the cuts definitely need stitches. You put slight pressure on your wrist and more tears run down your face. "Damn it." She's looking at you in concern and you manage to smile slightly. "Kutner's right though. I kicked Frosty's ass. He's not a jolly, happy soul anymore."

After staring at you in confusion, Cameron shakes her head and leaves to room. You walk over to the sink and work on washing off most of the blood until she returns a few minutes later with a needle and the suture kit. "You weren't even wearing a jacket outside. You could catch Pneumonia."

"I was only out there for a second," you mutter, returning to the bed. Holding out your arm, you let her disinfect it then numb it with the needle. You'll never tell her, but it makes you feel good to know she cares about something as simple as whether or not you wear a jacket outside. "Could you hurry up?"

"It's true that doctors make the worst patients." She sews up your arm then examines your wrist and frowns. "It doesn't look broken but if it swells more, we're coming back tomorrow and you're getting an x-ray."

"Yes, _Mother_," you mumble under your breath even though you're secretly enjoying the attention. Her touches are extremely light and gentle even though she's being hard on your verbally. Looking down, you play with one of the clips on your suspenders as she wraps your wrist. "I'm going to kill them. They are so _dead_."

"Whatever happened, they probably didn't mean it," Cameron assures you. "They're your friends."

As much as you don't want to admit it, you know she's right. The last thing they would have wanted would be for you to get hurt.

She finishes wrapping your wrist and wipes a few tears away from your cheek with her thumb. "Are you okay now?"

"I was fine to begin with," you mutter.

"Well, well," House says, walking into the room. "What happened to you?"

"Leave, House," Cameron demands, going slightly rigid.

"You're missing out on the party," House replies, walking over. "I thought I'd bring some of the Christmas tradition to you." He reaches in his pocket and pulls out mistletoe.

"We're not going to kiss, House." You glance at Cameron to make sure she's okay, ready to get up and pull her from the room if there's even the slightest hint of a breakdown coming.

"I was going to suggest one of you kiss me, but the two of you kissing is an even better idea." He smirks and dangles the mistletoe over your head. "You're already living together."

"Leave." You glare at him and bat the mistletoe away with your good hand. "You've already caused enough problems." He holds the mistletoe over you again and you huff, getting ready to stand and leave.

Cameron leans forward and presses her lips to your cheek. "Happy?"

House grins. "For now." He turns to walk out then turns back and points at you then tells Cameron, "Oh. You might want to treat her for shock too."

You watch him walk away and sit there in stunned silence. Your cheeks are bright pink. Your heart is skipping beats and butterflies have filled your stomach. She's grinning and you refuse to look her in the eye in fear of her noticing you're falling for her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Less than 13:** Naaah. Sweet ain't my style. I'm definitely all dark and twisty. It was hard to take pics while in the midst of fighting. Lol. Didn't wanna stab the camera. That woulda been uncool since it's rather new! Does an elevator crash sound better? And I'm ignoring your question because either answer could be considered spoilerish. Ha.  
**Ilessthree:** I don't think I could switch to third-person. It'd seem...odd having it all in second person except for one chapter.  
**JB:** You should go read it. And review it. Haha.  
**Agajda: **So...what does your name stand for? I type it and I'm like, "Hm...I wonder what it means." Anyway! Glad you liked the ending!  
**Eva:** Thanks! Glad you liked the role-reversal!  
**WrongObsession: **I don't know how I'd be able to tell it from 2 POVs.  
**Roronoa: **-snickers- Glad you thought it was funny. I felt kinda guilty hanging Frosty w/ Remy's suspenders. And...at least you have Kutner in my fic! Tho...probably not a lot of him. I know nothing about him...so I'm improvising!  
**Wonderous: **I did hint before she cut herself when she hid the razors in her shower. But the cuts Cameron was talking about came from crashing into Frosty.  
**Vanamo:** Elevator crash? I was watching something the other night (can't say what it was or it'd be all spoilerish) but it inspired me. It had a carcrash...but I suppose an elevator could work and it wouldn't be repetitive. I don't think I'm quite talented enough for such an odd writing style. I'd confuse myself and everyone reading.  
**Nameless: **Gr. Your name didn't wanna highlight for me to bold it. It kept highlighting my paragraph to Vanamo with it. -fail- And I'll be waiting for that poem. Bahaha. It'll be an elevator if not a car. I write drama. Without incidents, I get bored and then don't write at all.  
**Kj: **What? No death?! But I like writing deaths. Bahahaha. Actually, I like writing people's reactions to death...but same difference!  
**Ina: **Well, I still don't trust you with Rebecca. Haha. You might pressure her for spoilers or something. Or put her through torture. Denial /isn't/ just a river in Egypt! It's a freakin' ocean! Ha. And like I told Wonderous, the cuts came from Frosty. I wrote the plastic made cuts from her wrist up to her elbow or something. Why do you want Rebecca?! -clings to her-  
**McG:** Hope you don't mind I call you that. It's easier to type. And, yes, you found me! I tend to be invisible and quite sneaky. And I will be leaving FF once this fic is over. Sorry. I'm definitely not one of the best House writers or the best Cadley writer. -blush- Yay for making people cry! I enjoy getting reactions out of people. And Snow Patrol is amazing. My current obsession is their Up To Now album.

**Amazon: **Huh. Had to put an extra space bc your name didn't want to go to the next line. I had this moment of epic panic bc I thought I forgot you...but then I realized your name just wouldn't go down a line! I need accidents. Or I'll get bored and then I won't write...at all. It's happened to many many fics. I have an entire account full of unfinished fanfics.  
**YDPP:** Elevator crash sound better? And yay! You loved it! -happiness- I think...I would cry if I spent Christmas without power. That'd mean I'd have to be social. Ew.  
**Seventh: **Shhh. Don't tell him he's helpful. He might stop and just be an unhelpful ass. xD

MERRY CHRISTMAS (eve)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
Reviews make great presents, btw. -winkwink-

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

"Remy! It's Christmas! Come take your fucking present from my apartment _now_! All of my stuff is destroyed!" Rebecca's shrill voice is loud enough to wake the entire apartment building. Fortunately, it's going on noon and no one is probably sleeping except Remy.

You glance toward the door from your spot on the couch and put down the book you're reading. After a moment of hesitating, you get to your feet. "She'll be there in a second!" you call before walking hastily back to the bedroom. Finally having a reason to get Remy awake other than just for the sake of waking her up excites you. The morning was boring while she was sleeping and you enjoy her company quite a lot.

Remy is lying on her stomach on the bed with her injured arm stretched out to the side and a pillow over her head - presumably to block out the noise. She groans as you crawl on the bed beside her. "Five minutes."

"No five more minutes," you reply, wondering why you let her sleep this long to begin with. "It's Christmas. I want to spend the day with you. And your landlord seems angry."

"She's always angry." Stifling a yawn she attempts to push herself up with her injured arm but quickly collapses back down. "Ow. Damn it." Rolling onto her side, she yanks the blankets up over her head.

"Wake up!" You demand with a grin, bouncing slightly. "Come on, Remy. It's Christmas. You can't sleep all day!" You pause to think if there's any other way to wake her up then continue bouncing for a moment and shake her.

"You're going to make me seasick," she mumbles. "Wake me up at one."

"I'm waking you up now." You push her over onto her back and lay down next to her, attempting to pull the blankets away from her face. Her stubbornness is a bit cute. You finally get her uncovered then prop your head up with your hand and stare at her. It takes a moment but she finally opens her eyes and squints at you. "Hi," you say cheerfully.

"Hi." She attempts to look grumpy while you stare at her but finally cracks a smile. "Fine. God, I'm up." She sits to prove her point.

"Great!" You stand on the bed. "Your landlord was yelling at the door. Oh and I talked to Kutner earlier because I needed someone to stop by my mailbox. He stopped by to get my key and seemed disappointed you were still sleeping. I think he _likes_ you." You chuckle as she glares at you. "Remy and Kutn-Hey!" You shriek as she grabs your legs and pulls you down. You fall right onto her lap, shocked by the fact you didn't freak out from being grabbed.

"Shhh. Sleep." Using her good arm, she pushes you so you're laying beside her then wraps you in a hug and closes her eyes.

"Come on," you groan in frustration, glancing toward the door. Turning your head, you rest your forehead against hers and watch her, trying to figure out whether she's tired or just being lazy. You stop talking, glad her eyes are closed so she won't realize you're staring. She's gorgeous and being with her gives you a warm feeling you don't get from Chase. It kind of frightens you so you dismiss the thought. "It's Christmas," you repeat. "I thought you were up." You reach over and tickle her side.

"Allison!" She gasps and grabs your hand then glares at you. "That isn't funny."

"If it wasn't funny, you wouldn't have laughed." She's comfy and you snuggle closer for a moment then glance up at her and pout. "Please, get up?"

"I am up," she answers and buries her face against your hair. "Definitely up."

"I mean _up_ up." You have to admit, you're starting to think you could spend the entire day just snuggling in bed with her. Rolling onto your side, you stare at her a moment then twirl a lock of her hair around your finger. "_Please_?" Being able to lie in bed and be this close to her without jumping feels like a huge accomplishment. It's a relief to feel not so detached and terrified.

"Well, I _am_ anxious to give you your gift." She opens her eyes and smiles softly at you, brushing your hair away from your face.

"You got me something?" Sitting up, you lean over her, supporting yourself with your arm. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to get me anything either," she retorts. "So, we're even." She glances off to the side at your hand still playing with her hair and smiles slightly.

You grin. Out of the five love languages, you're more of a quality time person yourself but it's sinking in that she really enjoys being touched. "How is your arm?" you ask, glancing at it. "Frosty really did a number on you."

"It's fine," she answers. "He's a lot more violent than the cartoon shows. Fortunately, I know self-defense."

"I didn't know body slamming was considered self-defense," you tease her, earning yourself a playful slap on the arm.

"I shouldn't even give you your gift now," she jokes back, slowly pushing herself into a sitting position. "I could just leave it with Rebecca. I'm sure she'd be thrilled by that."

"Do I get any hints what it is?" You ask as you get to your feet and wait for her to get up. "I don't like surprises."

"A hint?" She runs her fingers through her hair to push it away from her face and gets up. "Well, Rebecca calls it Batman." Shrugging, she walks from the bedroom and toward the living room. "That's all I can give you."

"Huh." You wrinkle your forehead and try to fit the pieces together. It's referred to as Batman and it apparently destroys things. You follow her to the living room then plop down on the couch. "Give me another hint."

"No more hints. I'll be right back. Close your eyes." She stops by the door then slips on her shoes. "No peeking either."

"Fine." You place your hands on her knees and close your eyes, sitting there awkwardly. "This isn't any fun." The door opens and closes and you're forced to just wait. Not being able to see anything makes you nervous and you open your eyes again but clamp them shut once the doorknob turns.

"I want you to feel safe here," Remy says, walking back in and closing the door behind her. "So, I got you something special. Hold out your hands."

"What is it? A can of pepper spray?" you ask sarcastically. After a moment, you slowly stretch out your arms and hold out your hands. Whatever it is, it's too big to just fit in your hands and Remy ends up placing it close to your chest and wrapping your arms around it. For a moment, it's still and extremely fuzzy but then it begins to squirm and something cold nudges your chin. Your eyes fly open.

The Chow Chow puppy in your arms stares at you in shock for a moment then makes a yipping noise. It squirms more and begins attempting to lick your face.

You open your mouth to speak, but you're not sure what to say. The puppy has got to be the cutest thing you've ever seen. It's pure white except for two black marks that look like bat wings on either side of its nose. Eyes wide, you glance at Remy. She looks hesitant.

"You don't like him do you?" she asks, looking like she's trying to mask her disappointment.

"Like him?" you ask, glancing back down at Batman again. "He's amazing. I can't believe - I just…" You're at a loss for words and start grinning again. Batman whines and you press a kiss to his fluffy head.

"I'd figure he'd make you feel safer," she says. "Eventually, he'll grow and be better at protecting you. It'll make it easier to be on your own if we're working different hours. He was the only dog at the shelter fit for living in an apartment."

"Thank you," you whisper earnestly. Shifting so you're holding the puppy with one arm, you stand up and hug her tightly. "He's perfect."

Batman rests against you for a moment then barks and presses his nose to Remy's face, sniffing her. Placing a paw against her cheek, he attempts to climb out of your embrace and over to her.

"Awww. He likes you." You grin and pull him back, ruffling his fur. He playfully nips at your fingers then starts licking your hand.

"Stupid mutt," she mutters, fighting a smile as she rubs her cheek. "He's yours. Keep him out of trouble."

You place him on the ground and he quickly begins to explore the living room, sniffing around at every little thing. "He's so cute!"

There's a knock at the door and Batman immediately begins howling. He races down the halls then doubles back into the living room through the kitchen and back to the living room.

"He's definitely not shy. That's probably Kutner." It took you enough courage to answer the door for him earlier so you take a step back and wait for Remy to open it and let him in.

"It's plain to see you haven't been home for awhile," he comments when the door opens. He's holding a large stack of mail and a cardboard box. He attempts to walk inside but Batman grabs him by the pants leg and growls.

"No," Remy scolds, pointing a finger at Batman. The puppy cowers and whimpers, scurrying over to you and hiding behind your legs.

"Aw," you coo, scooping him up. "Poor puppy." You cradle him comfortingly and nuzzle your face against his fur. "Did Remy scare you?"

Kutner is chuckling and Remy slaps his arm. "Don't baby the thing," she warns you. "He'll become spoiled."

"That's okay." You grin and put him back down on the floor then walk over to Kutner and take your mail and the box, smiling as you see your mom's and dad's name on the return address. "Thank you so much. Do you want to stay for awhile?"

"Thanks but I have some paper work to do at the hospital," Kutner answers. "Wish I could though. Have a merry Christmas."

"You too." You smirk at the smile he gives Remy before he leaves and she shuts the door. "He likes you."

"No, he doesn't," she argues, rolling her eyes.

"You didn't notice the look he gave you?" you ask. "With the grin and the eyes." You laugh then sit down on the floor, placing your mail beside you and the box in front of you. "My parents must have sent this express or something to get it here before Christmas this year. It always ends up getting to me a week after the holiday."

Remy jumps teasingly at the dog, causing him to run circles around her feet. "I hid his leash and all the stuff he needs in the closet," she says, seeming to avoid the topic of parents. "I don't think I forgot anything. I got him a bed too, because he's not sleeping with us."

"Not even in the same room?" you ask, peeling some of the packing tape off the box. You struggle to get it open, wondering why your parents seem to Allison-proof everything they send you. "Do you have a knife?"

"Not even in the same room." She walks to the kitchen then returns with a steak knife and kneels down in front of you. "Here."

"Thanks." You take the knife for her and cut through the tape then pull back the cardboard flaps. There are two wrapped gifts inside, one labeled with your name and one that says '13'. "Here." You pull out hers and hand it to her.

"What's this?" she asks, taking it. Furrowing her brows, she stares at the nametag then looks at you in confusion.

"A gift," you answer. "I told my parents I was staying with a friend." You pull out your own and refuse to take her gift as she attempts to hand it back to you. "Open it."

"You should send it back," she replies, trying to force it back to you. "They shouldn't have sent me anything."

"You didn't want my gift either." Glancing at her, you tilt your head to the side. "They'll be offended if you send it back," you warn her. "They really will. My mom would cry." Turning your attention away from her again, you carefully unwrap your own gift. Your mom is the kind of person that always made you peel the tape off as carefully as possible and fold the wrapping paper and the habit stuck with you through the years. "Mm. Pumpkin Pie Spice," you announce, taking the lid off the candle and holding it to your nose. The scent almost makes your mouth water. Your dad made you a clay Nutcracker ornament.

Remy is still staring at her unwrapped gifts, arms crossed tightly across her chest. "They don't even know me."

"So?" You smile at her. "I'm sure they'd love you if they did." You watch her eyeing the gift. "Nothing is going to jump out and bite you if you open it," you assure her. You pick up your mail and begin to open all the Christmas cards you were sent. It hits you that the only things you saw Remy get for the holidays came from yourself and your parents.

"Ah, Mom," you mumble under your breath as you open an envelope from her. It contains a check and a note that states it's enough money for you _and your friend_ to visit her over New Years. Somehow, you highly doubt you'll be able to convince Remy to meet your parents if she won't even open the gift they sent her.

Leaning to the side, Remy wiggles her fingers in front of Batman's face, causing him to get excited and attempt to attack her hand. She flips him gently to the ground and rubs his belly, roughhousing with him and causing him to start playfully growling.

"You're deflecting," you state, looking at her. "It's a gift. It's not a big deal."

"I know it isn't a big deal," she answers, continuing to focus most of her attention on Batman. "I just don't like gifts."

"That's too bad." You know you can't force her to open it and hope that eventually she'll get curious and open it herself. You place the wrapping paper, cards, and envelopes neatly back in the box then hang your ornament on the tree. "Can I put this in the kitchen?" you ask, picking up your candle and getting to your feet.

"Whatever you want," she replies simply with a shrug.

"Thanks." You take your candle to the kitchen and place it between the four burners on the stove. You open the kitchen drawer you last saw a lighter in and pull it out then light your candle. "Hey." You take a few steps backward and poke your head into the living room. "I should check your arm."

"Yeah." She nods and quickly gets to her feet, leaving her gift on the floor. Batman starts sniffing it though and she's forced to pick it up and place it on her coffee table where he can't reach. She unwraps her wrist on the way to the kitchen while trying to examine the cuts.

After retrieving the icepack from the freezer, you walk over to her and feel a few places on her wrist. "It's definitely not broken. The swelling has gone down." You place the ice on it and glance up at her as she grits her teeth. "Does it hurt a lot?"

"No." She stops clenching her jaw for a moment as if to prove her point.

"Is there a reason you're lying to me?" you ask calmly, looking at the cuts to make sure they aren't infected.

"Don't make assumptions just because you're pissed off I won't open the gift from your parents." She pulls her arm away and puts the ice on the table. After fiddling with the wrap for a moment, she begins to put it around her wrist again.

"And I thought House was a grinch," you mutter under your breath. You notice her look at you but she doesn't say anything. Immediately, you feel guilty. "Sorry."

"Forget it." Grabbing the ice, she places it against her wrist again. "I'm going to head to the hospital for awhile. Kutner was right when he said there's paperwork there."

Heart dropping, you look away from her. "House actually gave you Christmas off and you're going to the hospital anyway?" Spending Christmas alone would be miserable even with Batman for company. "Look, I'll send the gift back, okay? Just don't go into work."

"Why do you care so much that I open it anyway?" she asks. "You feel bad for me? Poor Remy? Her mother died and her dad doesn't give a damn about the holidays while my parents are Mr. and Mrs. Claus?"

"Yeah, I do feel bad for you," you reply in anger, placing your hands on your hips. "But not because of your parents. Because you're so insecure, you have to be jerk to hide it when you're vulnerable."

"Yeah, that's me," she says in a sarcastic tone. She makes a few ambiguous hand motions. "Insecure and _exceedingly_ vulnerable. I'm getting dressed then going to work. Merry Christmas, Allison."

Pursing your lips, you watch her leave the kitchen. "Merry Christmas, Remy." Noticing Batman by your feet, you clench your jaw and pick him up. "I guess it's gonna be just us, huh?" you whisper and he cocks his head to the side at the sound of your voice. Letting out a long sigh, you bury your face against his fur. "I can't do anything right."

Batman wriggles around then manages to lick the side of your face and yips.

Forcing a smile, you hold him up so you can look at him. He looks like a giant cotton ball and you smirk. "Well, you don't care that I can't do anything right. We'll have a merry Christmas together." You smirk. "I bet you'd like a nice breakfast, wouldn't you? Me too." You put him on the floor and he follows you around the kitchen at your ankles.

Determined to block out thoughts of Remy, you turn on the radio and crank up the volume of the Christmas songs. Ironically, Blue Christmas starts playing.

------

Bored and upset that Remy never came home from work, you fall asleep with Batman on the bed around five in the evening. You wake up again around nine and wander toward the kitchen to get a glass of water.

"Hey," you whisper, noticing Remy on the couch. She has her back to you and is resting an elbow on the windowsill. The reflection of light flickering on her face catches your attention and you approach her from the side, noticing she's opened and is burning the candle your mom got her.

"Hey," she repeats, her voice a bit distant. She's watching the flame, tracing a finger around the glass rim of the candle.

Deciding you don't really need anything to drink at the moment, you walk over to the couch and kneel beside her. "You okay?" She's smiling slightly but at the same time looks like she might cry. She doesn't answer and you don't press the matter. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, you watch the flame with her for a few moments then glance outside. "Look. Carolers."

She glances up at the children and adults standing outside a house diagonal across the street. Reaching around the candle, she pushes the window open and Silent Night begins to drift through the air. "I ruined your holiday, huh?" She stares at the carolers for a moment then looks down and rubs her head, letting out a long breath.

"A little bit," you admit. "But it's okay. There's still three hours left." You rest your head against the windowsill.

Batman climbs onto the couch and leaps onto the back of it, squeezing between you and Remy. He sniffs the candle then sneezes and almost blows out the flame. Tilting his head back, he howls and overpowers the voices of the carolers.

You scratch his back for a moment then glance over at Remy. She seems to be distancing herself from you and you don't like that because your days with her suddenly seem numbered. You figure after you visit your parents on New Years, you'll return home instead of back to her apartment. It's hard to help but wonder what she thinks about you going but you're afraid to ask her because you want her to want you to stay longer.


	15. Chapter 15

**Seventh:** This chapter shows a bit of what's wrong.  
**YDPP:** I figured I'd destroy her stuff as punishment for existing. Heh. And, yeah, Remy is lonely. Hope you had power all day! And wrapping paper is so overrated!  
**Eva:** Batman is totally cute. Hehehe.  
**Ilessthree:** Your Christmas mood was blue? I don't even know if they're going to move in together yet.  
**Kj:** I don't remember insisting on killing anyone…but I have no plans to kill Chase. Lol. None yet anyway.  
**JB:** I was looking at pics of them and thought the white ones were the cutest. I haven't even decided whether Cam is going back to her place or not yet.  
**Less than 13:** It was either Batman or Batdog…but since I call my own dog Batdog (she has ears that look like wings), I figured I'd go with the former. I want 13 to go…but convincing her is another story. And the three hours…er…sat on the couch. Which is why I didn't type much about it. Ha.  
**Wonderous: **Well...knowing me, there'll prolly be intense arguments in the future. Heh.  
**Ina:** I'm always protective of my characters. Lol. Whyyy do you want her? o_o Are you sure you wanna get to know her? Haha. She's kinda...er...dull. But, fiiiiiine. Here. Take her. Just make sure to give her back! Unharmed. Physically and mentally. Yeah, she has a hard time trusting Cameron...bc Cameron is potentially going to leave.  
**Dae:** Thank you!  
**Somuch:** Ha. Lighter for /now/. If I don't give you all some 'lighter' stuff, you'll all leave...so enjoy it while you have it!  
**Wesley: **It's okay. And I wish I had something to do other than lie around and read (er...well...write in my case) fanfic! Batman'll totally keep Cameron safe. Now, Remy, on the other hand...-snickers-  
**Nameless: **Huh...Batman or a taser. Good thing the gift was for Cam, cause I totally woulda chose the taser. Bahahaha. I'm just waiting for my Frosty/suspenders poem!  
**Amazon:** Why do you all think I'm going to kill people?! Hahaha. I'm like...best friends with my defibrillator on my new surgeon game. I can keep people alive! I'm definitely not killing House. He's the safest out of...all the characters, minus Batman. Batman has a guaranteed life too. Chase will be back next chapter. And...at least it was cold water and not pure icecubes. I got a few cubes of ice stored away.  
**Agajda:** Ahhh. Ok. I'm happy I understand your name now. It was bugging me trying to figure it out. Ha. And, yeah, that's me...the secret spy. Haha. I'm not much of a spy person. That'd be too one-person focused. I'm much more of a world-domination person, y'know?

So...I was half asleep typing those replies. I don't think I missed anyone...but sorry for typos.

So...I have a scene planned out...for like...forever from now. Which not only means this fic will be very long...but also that I really have no life to be planning out random scenes.

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

"Remy!"

You wake up for the second time in two hours to Cameron screaming your name and crying in her sleep. The first time you soothed her back to a peaceful sleep without waking her but she wasn't curled up at your side shaking like she is now. "Hey," you whisper, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

"No," she sobs and curls up closer to you, gripping the fabric of your nightgown. "No. Remy, help. Remy!"

"I'm right here." You sit up, pulling her up with you. Propping yourself up against the backboard of your bed, you cradle her on your lap. She's drenched in sweat but you hold her close anyway. "Allison, wake up."

"Please, get off," she pleads, twisting in your arms then curling up closer to you. She crosses her legs and squeezes them together, placing her hands down there to restrict access to beneath her pants. "S-stop! I w-want R-Remy!"

"Allison!" Sliding your injured arm around her to support her, you ignore the pain suddenly shooting up through your wrist. Using your good hand, you shake her shoulder.

"No!" Her eyes open and she jerks away from you but doesn't managed to escape your tight grip on her. It doesn't take you reassuring her for her to realize it's you holding her. In a matter of milliseconds, she has a death-grip on the back of your nightgown and is trying to hide her face between your neck and shoulder.

"It was just a dream," you try to soothe her, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades. "You're safe. I have you."

"I was…He did…and just…I…" She mumbles, warm tears running down her cheeks and falling onto your bare shoulder, sliding down your skin until they soak into your nightgown. "A-and y-you…I th-thought…"

"Shhh. Allison, I can't understand you when you're crying." You wonder if she even knows what she's saying to begin with. "Let's lay back down, okay? You need to go back to sleep."

"I can't!" She sniffles and shakes her head. She lets go of your nightgown with one hand. "I can't. It hurts."

Exhausted, you hold back an exasperated sigh and remind yourself she's obviously as tired as you are and probably just as frustrated. "What hurts?" You stop rubbing her shoulders and place your hand on the back of her head, contemplating trying to rock her back to sleep. When she doesn't answer your question, you close your eyes and try to think but end up focusing on yawning. "Listen," you mumble, turning your head so your face is buried against her hair. "I'm not going to play guessing games with you at four-thirty in the morning. If something hurts, you need to tell me what it is."

"I can't…" She shakes her head, trembling with silent sobs. Her hand slips down to between her legs and she starts rubbing the inside of one of her thighs where you know she has bruises. "It hurts."

"You had your legs crossed too tight. It'll stop, but rubbing isn't going to help." You take her hand and lace your fingers. "Do you want ice or pain medicine or something?" Thinking about them makes your wrist ache more and you realize you need something for yourself too.

Nodding, she tightens her grip on you for a moment before slowly pulling back. "Please."

"Alright." You move from behind her and stand beside the bed, stroking her back with your fingertips. "Lay down. I'll be right back." You wait until she curls up on her side then cover her up with the blankets. "The dog probably needs to go out too." Walking over to the closet, you grab one of your sweatshirts then toss it on the bed, watching her as she grabs it and hugs it close.

Despite it being winter, you slip on flip-flops before you leave the bedroom and shut the door behind you. About two feet down the hall, you trip over something but manage to stay upright. Scowling, you glance down at one of your sneakers that now has teeth marks in it. "You stupid dog," you hiss. "You better be hiding with your tail between your legs."

Stopping in the living room, you glance around for Batman. He's sitting beside the door, wagging his tail. Narrowing your eyes, you keep your gaze fixed on him as you walk over to the couch and fold the blanket on it. You had been sleeping there until Cameron had started crying the first time. "What are you looking at?" you ask the puppy, placing the folded blanket on the back of the couch. "Do you need to go out?"

Batman stands and runs in a circle then presses his nose to the corner of the door and barks.

"Be quiet," you whisper. "If you're noisy, you'll keep Allison up." His leash is hanging on a hook by the door and you grab it and straighten it out. "Come here."

Batman lowers the front half of himself to the floor, holding his behind in the air and wiggling it playfully. He growls at you then lets his tongue hang out of the side of his mouth, drool leaving a small puddle on your floor.

"Yeah, grrr," you growl back half-heartedly. "Come on." You take a step toward him and lean down to hook the leash on his collar.

Batman barks then darts past the leash and between your legs. He leaps up onto the couch then turns to face you and growls again.

Spinning around, you narrow your eyes at him. "I'm not screwing around, Dog," you whisper. "Come here. Now."

Batman jumps off the couch and rushes toward you. He runs in a circle around your legs then starts nipping at your feet.

"Ow! Damn it!" You lift your foot as he bites one of your toes and jump up and down a few times. "No, bad dog. I can take you back. I'll sell you to the Chinese restaurant down the street."

Being scolded and threatened doesn't seem to faze him. He grabs your sneaker he hasn't chewed and drags it across the floor, eyeing you carefully.

"You think this is funny? I'll give you back to Rebecca. Then you'll wish I gave you to the Chinese restaurant." Running your fingers through your hair, you close your eyes to ward off a headache. These past few days have been even more exhausting than the hell House tends to put you through. Opening your eyes again, you find him sitting at your feet. Reaching down, you scoop him up just as he's about to dart away.

Batman squirms in your arms and makes it nearly impossible to hook his leash. He nuzzles his face against your shoulder, licking the area Cameron's tears were landing on.

"You're lucky you're cute," you mumble, finally getting the leash on him. "Let's make this walk quick. Just remember, if you get loose, there is no way in hell I'm running down the street yelling your name." You place him on the ground and wrap the leash a few times around your wrist, hoping Cameron will be sleeping again by the time you return.

You open the door and take a few steps into the hall, tripping over a giant box in front of your door. Trying not to fall on your face, you jump a few times but only manage to get tangled in Batman's leash and fall on your butt.

"Graceful," Rebecca comments, arching a brow at you as she walks down the hall. "The clubs were all empty, but I think you just made my night. Nice underwear, by the way. They're sexy even though I'd prefer you without them."

Groaning, you yank your nightgown down and hit the back of your head against the wall. "Why the hell is there a box in front of my door?"

"I dunno." She sticks a piece of gum in her mouth and leans against the wall, not bothering to help you up. "Bought a new outfit. What do you think?"

"You might as well just have gone out naked," you answer, looking her over. Her shirt is more like a bra and her skirt barely covers her thighs.

"Wouldn't have bothered you if I came home that way." She smirks and winks at you. "You busy?"

"Yes," you answer, not missing a beat. "I need to walk the dog, open this damn box, then take care of Cameron."

"Well, just look at all that responsibility you're taking on." Rebecca walks over to you and kneels in front of you. "You don't need a quick break?"

Gripping Batman's leash tighter, you draw in a sharp breath as her hands find your chest. "I don't have time. The dog is here."

"He'd be lucky to watch." She kisses your earlobe and slides a hand under your nightgown, causing you to arch your back.

"I can't," you manage, pushing her away. "Not right now."

Pulling back, she seems to study you for a moment. "Too bad," she comments, getting to her feet. "Maybe tonight?"

"Maybe," you say. Swallowing hard, you sink back against the wall as she walks down the hall and to her apartment. You feel almost like you're cheating on Cameron. One look at Rebecca's ass though makes you regret your decision, but it's too late now. You're dying and will live how you want without anyone holding you back.

Getting to your knees, you kneel in front of the cardboard box and glance it over. It's held together with flimsy tape and you open it by sliding your fingernail down the middle of it. Pulling the flaps open, you think it's empty until you notice the dead robin in the corner. Swearing under your breath, you quickly get to your feet and kick the box to the side. Seeming to pick up on your fright, Batman starts growling at the box.

Disgusted, you cross your arms for a moment and just stare. It had to have come from the same person who wrote on you're wall, whom you suspect is the same person who hurt Cameron. After shutting your door and locking it, you kick the box down the hall and outside with your foot. It makes you nervous to be outside alone at night now, wondering if the guy could possibly hurt you too. You put the box beside the trashcan and smirk as Batman decides to pee on it. "Good boy."

Batman wags his tail at the praise and sniffs around for a few moments before dragging you back inside. He stops at each door on the way to your apartment, sniffing under the cracks and refusing to budge until you practically drag him down the hall.

"Dog, you are getting on my last nerve," you warn him as you unlock your door then go inside. You wait until the door is shut behind you to take him off the leash. He runs circles around your legs as you relock the door and hang the leash on the wall. "Don't you ever get tired?"

Barking, he darts down the hall and toward your bedroom.

"Of course," you mumble and rub your forehead. Walking into the kitchen, you glance at the clock. It's going on five and you have to get up at eight. You consider calling in sick, but you know you won't, especially since Cameron has to go into work too. It takes a moment of going through your medicine cabinet to find pain medicine. You take two of the pills yourself then empty one out on your palm for Cameron before getting a glass of water and an icepack.

When you get back to the bedroom, she's still awake. Batman is resting beside her and she's running her fingers through his fur. "Did you take him out?" she asks, glancing at you.

"Yeah." You don't tell her about the box or Rebecca. "Here, sit up." You take a seat on your side of the bed and hold out the pill and water.

"Thanks." She slowly pushes herself up then takes the medicine, drinking all the water and placing the empty glass on the nightstand. Glancing away in shame, she takes the icepack from you and hesitates a moment before placing it between her thighs. "You're not going back out to the couch are you?" She gives you a pleading look for you to stay.

"Not if you don't want me to," you answer. The couch hurts your back and you'd much rather be with her anyway. "Do you need me to hold you for awhile?" When she gives a small nod, you lie down on your side and pat the spot in front of you. She curls up with her back against your chest and you wrap an arm around her, holding her tightly.

"I'm scared to sleep," she whispers quietly, gripping your arm where it isn't injured. "I don't want anymore dreams."

"I know, but we both need to sleep." You close your eyes but try to stay awake. "I'm right here, okay?" You feel her relax and sink back against you.

-----

A knock on the door wakes you up at six. If it's whoever's after Cameron, you add this to all of your reasons to kill him. If it's anyone else, you plan on making a new list of reasons to kill whoever it is.

Groaning, you slowly open your eyes and are relieved to see Cameron is fast asleep with Batman snuggled against her. Being careful not to wake her, you ease yourself off the bed then tiptoe out of the room. Not bothering to look through the peephole, you grab an umbrella with a pointy end and swing the door open.

"Watch it!" Kutner stumbles back, staring in horror at the umbrella.

"What are you doing here?" You glare at him, clutching the doorknob with the hand that isn't holding the umbrella. It sends pain up your arm but you ignore it. "It's six in the morning."

"Well, it looks like I'm about to get impaled," he replies, eyeing the umbrella even as you toss it on the floor. "You didn't get House's page? We have a patient. I thought I'd bring you coffee. It's decaf."

You don't even know where you pager is right now. "Thanks," you mutter, taking one of the coffee cups he's holding. Stepping aside, you let him in. "You couldn't have taken it to the hospital?"

"It would have gotten cold," he answers. "You look like you just got out of bed."

"You woke me up." You take a few sips of the coffee, glancing toward the hall as Cameron and Batman suddenly appear near the edge of the living room. She rubs at her eyes, looking even more tired than you feel. "Go back to bed," you tell her. "I'll call you off."

"Do you have to go in early?" she asks, eyeing Kutner before looking at you. "I can just sleep in the lounge until my shift starts."

"You're not sleeping in the lounge." You switch the coffee cup from one hand to the other as it starts to burn your hand. Frowning, you watch Kutner fiddle with the dog leash. "Don't touch that," you warn, swatting at his hand. "Or anything else. If you plan on waiting, just…stand there."

"Okay," he says cheerfully. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'll just stand here."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cameron smirk and your cheeks start burning. Reassuring yourself Kutner does not have a crush on you, you take a few more sips of coffee then walk toward the hall. "Go back to bed," you tell Cameron, stopping beside her.

"I don't need to go back to bed," she replies, shaking her head. She crosses her arms across her chest. "I'm going to get dressed then makes us breakfast quick. Waffles sound okay?"

"Yeah. I'm going to get a shower." _And you're going back to bed when you're done making breakfast. _Your sneaker trips you again as you start walking. "Damn it." You pick it up and glare at it.

"Is she having a bad day?" Kutner whispers.

"I'm not having a bad day." Turning around, you throw your sneaker at him. It misses by an inch because he jumps out of the way. The two of them snicker as you walk the rest of the way back to the bathroom.

Trying not to burn your mouth and throat, you gulp down the rest of the coffee and shut the bathroom door behind you. You toss the empty cup in the paper can then pull of your nightgown and let it drop to the floor. The door nudges open while you're pulling off your panties and a little, black nose pokes its way into the bathroom. Groaning, you slowly shut the door again. "Go away." Putting your foot in front of the door, you unwrap your wrist and place the cloth on the sink.

Eyeing the door, you turn on the water and place your hand under the spray as you wait for it to get relatively hot. "Dog, I swear," you warn as the door opens again. You push it closed and move the paper can in front of it to keep it that way. After retrieving one of your razors from their current hiding spot, you hop in the shower and stand directly under the water.

It only takes a moment to wash off then you stare at the razor, debating. The pain might wake you up a bit. Watching your own blood flow might drain you of loneliness and the fear Cameron is going to hurt you by leaving. There doesn't seem like any reasons not to do it. One option would be to numb your emotions by turning them into physical pain while the other option would be to hold them back until you explode. You pick a place on your injured arm where Frosty already left several slices. That way, Cameron won't notice because you doubt she counted how many cuts are there.

Holding your arm under the shower spray, you slide the razor smoothly across your skin. It takes a moment of feeling nothing before the stinging starts and the blood runs from the cut. It feels good but you immediately regret it, just like you always do. The regret makes you want to do it again as punishment and you press the blade closer to your wrist. It's a little closer to your wrist than where you normally choose to cut, but there are already so many cuts on that arm. Just as your about to press the blade harder, there's a loud thump that causes you to drop the razor in shock.

Peeking around the curtain, you notice your paper can on its side and Batman trotting into the bathroom. He glances at you and wags his tail then walks over to the shower and stands so his front paws are on the edge.

"Allison!" you call, using your foot to push him back down. "Come get your mutt!"

"I can't!" she replies. "I'm busy!"

You glare at Batman as he puts his paws on the edge again and sticks his head under the shower spray. It takes him a moment to realize he's getting wet and he whimpers then darts from the bathroom.

Rolling your eyes, you pick up the razor and rinse off the blood. Grabbing a dark washrag, you press it to the cut until it stops bleeding and it's only stinging. Tears well up in your eyes but you bite them back, not allowing yourself the comfort of crying. Exhaustion makes it harder than usual to hold back but reminding yourself Cameron might go all comforting on you if she thinks you've been crying helps. A role reversal with her holding you for once doesn't seem all that bad but you're not going to damage your tough-guy look for it. Not only do you not want to seem vulnerable, you have to seem like you're a reliable person to Cameron. Your normal self-destructive ways of drinking, drugs, and women will have to change to something more hidden like cutting for the time being.

After turning off the water, you wrap yourself in a towel and set to cleaning up the bathroom. The razor gets hidden again and you put your paper can back in its normal spot, reminding yourself to get the door fixed so it can't be pushed open if it isn't locked. You rewrap your wrist, trying not to flinch at how much it hurts.

Batman is sulking in the hall as you walk out of the bathroom. He's rubbing his wet fur with his paws and trying to rub his face across the floor.

"See, that's what happens when you're bad." You consider drying him off but he'll be dry soon enough. Leaving him to pout, you walk into the bedroom and change into jeans and long-sleeved grey shirt. The bed is calling to you but you know you'll fall asleep if you rest for even a second. You grab a light jacket from your closet then the hoodie off your bed and walk to the kitchen.

Kutner and Cameron are standing several feet away from each other eating waffles. You grab the waffle you suppose is your own and hold it with your mouth as she slides on the jacket. "We should eat while we go," you mumble through the food, tossing Cameron the hoodie.

"You can't wear that," she comments, putting her waffle down then sliding the sweatshirt over her head. "You'll freeze."

"I won't freeze," you argue, pulling the waffle from your mouth. You take a bite of it then nod at the hoodie you gave her. "That's light too."

"No, it isn't. What you're wearing was made for spring. It's the middle of winter." Frowning, she picks her waffle up again. "You need something heavier or you'll get sick."

"I'm not going to get sick. Like I said, your hoodie isn't heavy either." You glance at Kutner because he's arching an eyebrow at you. You realize what Cameron is wearing is just fine but you want to prolong the argument so you can feel cared about.

Finishing her waffle, she tugs at the sleeve of the hoodie and looks it over. "Yes, it is," she argues. Seeming to be getting upset, she wraps her arms around herself. "It's like ten degrees out. You need a real jacket."

"I didn't even wear a jacket while I was walking the dog," you reply. Taking another bite of your waffle, you glance out the window. "It's warmer than ten degrees and we're only going to the car."

"You went outside in your nightgown?" Furrowing her brows, she gives you a worried look. "It's cold out, Remy. Please, put another jacket on."

"I'm not putting another jacket on. We need to leave before House comes and gets us himself." Grabbing your keys, you walk to the door and slip on your shoes, glad to have a pair that hasn't been chewed. "Are you coming or are you going back to bed? I'll put on a better jacket if you go back to bed."

Opening the door, Kutner makes a hissing noise at the two of you then steps out into the hall.

"Why do you have to be like that?" Cameron asks you, ignoring Kutner. "If you would tell me what's wrong…"

"There's nothing wrong." You follow her into the hall then shut and lock your door. "I'm fine. You're the one getting all worked up." The concerned look she's giving you makes you feel guilty but at the same time provides some sort of satisfaction. "I'm fine," you repeat.

"I know you're lying to me," she replies, following Kutner until you're all outside. She seems to almost debate with herself for a moment before going with you to your car. "What's wrong, Remy? Are you still upset over yesterday?" She opens the passenger's side door once you unlock the car and gets in.

"There isn't anything wrong." You walk to the driver's side and get in. You wonder if you push her away if it'll hurt less when she leaves. Knowing you should soak up the time you have with her is logical but also ends the worst way. Shutting your door, you jam your key into the ignition and drive in silence to the hospital.


	16. Chapter 16

**Somuch:** Bahaha. I was thinking about what would happen if he got loose and Remy running down the street yelling, "Batman!" with people staring at her. Apparently she doesn't think it's as funny as I do. They have a lovely love/hate relationship.  
**Nameless:** Yay for cheesy poems! That was great. Bahahaha. "Such a bad idea to climb the tree with no ladder. Then believing Kutner could catch you? Even sadder." That was the best part. -rofl- Yus, bad things are going to happen. -evillaugh-  
**Wesley:** -gives you a bandaid for your heart- You'll be fine! Aw. No never ending rant? I like those. Haha. I have no ending even in store for this fic yet bc I plan on it lasting several months. It's going to be long...or at least that's what I'm thinking now. So I can't tell you if the ending will be happy or sad.  
**YDPP:** Haha. Your self/weather chart reminds me of House's House/God chart. Glad you loved it!  
**Ina:** Just...keep an eye on her. She tends to escape and get into trouble. Lock her up or something. Lol. And Cameron isn't like that...but throw this chapter into the picture and...-explosion!-  
**Ilessthree: **Aw. Why was your Christmas blue??? And...aw. Nothing major is going to happen between Remy and Kutner so just enjoy him. He's fun. Lol.  
**JB: **Well, given the choice between angst or sex...it's gonna have to be angst for the time being. And what's your version of angsty angst?  
**WrongObsession: **Glad you like Rebecca. And Batman! I really wanted some kind of superhero name...and Batman totally fit. No, they don't really know. But likelihood is the guy who hurt Cam.  
**Less than 13:** I have no clue how I came up with the robin idea. It just floated into my head. Like most of this stuff. And awww...like I said, just enjoy Kutner. Nothing major will happen between then and he's fun.

My goal was to make you cry with this chapter. How well did I do? Ha.

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

Wondering why it has to be _now_ the ER is slow enough that you can't seem to get lost in your work, you find yourself walking back from the lounge with your second cup of coffee in the last hour. You managed to sleep for thirty minutes once you got to the hospital then spent an hour and a half treating patients and doing paperwork. Now, you're waiting for the next car to crash on the highway or man to fall off his roof while removing Christmas lights. While you don't want to see anyone injured (Because who _really_ wants to see anyone hurting? Except maybe House.), you need something to occupy your time. You need something to occupy your thoughts.

'_Don't think about Remy. Don't think about Remy. Don't think about Remy.' _doesn't seem to be helping you not think about Remy. She makes it hard to concentrate. You want to know what's going on inside her head but she's hard for you to read. She puzzles you in a way different and stronger than even House manages to. Would it have been that hard to put on a heavier jacket? Or did she want to argue with you? _Don't think about Remy. Don't think about Remy._

"Damn it," Wilson mutters to himself as you walk by his office. He's standing in front of a mirror tying, untying, then retying his tie, not seeming to be able to get it just right.

"Morning," you comment, stopping in the doorway. You take a sip of your coffee then tilt your head to the side and watch him. "Need help?"

"Morning," he replies, glancing at you through the reflection on the mirror. "You don't have to." He shakes his head. "There's just something about this tie."

You walk inside and set your coffee mug down on his desk. "Here, turn around," you tell him, doing a circular motion with your hand. You hesitate being this close to someone, but it feels like a giant accomplishment. Your heart is pounding in your chest like he's suddenly going to attack you. You remind yourself this is Wilson and he's as capable of hurting someone as you are.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he comments, turning to face you. He unties the knot he made and lets both ends of the tie hang around his neck. "This is why people don't wear the ties they get for Christmas."

"At least it doesn't have some weird pattern," you comment with a smirk, taking the ends of the black tie. "Could you imagine if someone like _House_ got you a tie?"

"He did three years ago," Wilson replies. "That one stays in the very _back_ of my closet." He glances down to watch you tie it but his chin gets in the way and he looks up again. "I heard Thirteen got you a dog. The Hulk or something."

"Batman," you correct him with a grin and take a step back to admire how well you tied his tie. "Her landlord named him and it stuck. He's great. Did House get you anything this year?" Picking your mug up, you watch as Wilson gathers a few files together.

"He got me a shirt," Wilson answers, rubbing his forehead. He makes an exasperated groan and shakes his head.

"A shirt?" you question, raising your eyebrows. You walk toward the hall with him.

"Yeah," he replies. "It says 'I have a PhD.' and then under it in parenthesis, it says 'Pretty Huge Dick'. He says _Cuddy_ bought it for him and I guess he didn't want it."

You choke on your coffee and nearly drop the mug. By Cuddy, you assume that really means Remy, Kutner, and Taub. "Did you hear what he bought her in return?"

"Well, he denies it, but she's claiming he bought her a shirt too." Wilson shrugs. "Apparently it says, 'Dear Santa, this year I want bigger boobs.' or something. You look like you know something."

"What?" you try to play innocent and wipe the guilty look from your face. You're never letting Remy, Kutner, and Taub go shopping together ever again.

"His team actually went out and bought gag gifts, didn't they?" Wilson asks, grinning. "I didn't think they'd do it."

You smirk. "You didn't think they'd really -"

"Cameron!" Chase jogs to catch up with you. "I've been looking for you."

You find yourself subconsciously inching closer to Wilson. "I've been busy," you answer.

"I have a patient," Wilson says, not seeming to notice your apprehension. "I'll catch up with you later though. We can meet for lunch or something."

"Alright." Your voice suddenly sounds choked. "I'm meeting Remy too."

"Who?" Wilson asks, walking backwards so he can face you as he heads toward his patient.

"Thirteen," you reply. "You can eat with us." Crossing your arms protectively across your chest, you watch as he nods then turns and walks away.

"So you call her Remy now?" Chase asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. He stands shoulder to shoulder with you, almost touching you.

"Well, that is her name," you answer, glancing down at the floor. "I have to get back to the ER. I'll see you later though, okay?"

"I don't like you staying with her," Chase comments, stepping in front of you. "You're even eating lunch with her now? You used to eat with me."

"You can join us if you want." The walls feel like they're closing in on your and it gets harder to breathe.

"I don't want to join you," Chase answers, frowning at you. "I want to eat with you and only you."

"Remy and I already planned to eat together though," you reply. "It's just lunch."

"Exactly," Chase says. "It's just lunch. So tell her you changed your plans."

"Okay." You don't want to fight with him. It's hard enough just to talk to him without fighting. Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, you count your breaths and try to focus on them.

"I have something for you." Chase reaches in his pocket and pulls out a key then holds it flat on his palm.

"What is that?" you ask, your eyes going wide. "That's not -"

"It's my apartment key," he confirms your fears. "If you need to stay with someone, I want you to stay with me."

Swallowing hard, you just stare at the key. "I'm okay staying with Remy," you assure him. "I feel safe there."

"Sure, you feel safe there," Chase says. "Because she babies you. Look at you, Cameron. You barely even let people stand within a foot of you because she comes to your rescue every time you jump. What's she really going to do to protect you if that guy comes back though? Drug him up then seduce him while you escape?"

"Don't talk about her like that," you hiss, narrowing your eyes at him. "You don't know anything about her. And she doesn't baby me. If she did, she'd be here kicking your ass."

"Oh, sorry," Chase says. "I forgot she seems to be more interested in women then men. So, I guess you're screwed living with her. You do remember you have a boyfriend while you're with her though, right?" He holds out the key for you to take.

"Are you _jealous_?" you ask. He seems to want to be your knight in shining armor, but in reality, you think he just wants Remy out of the picture. Out of guilt, you take the key. Even if it is because Remy has been protecting you, you can't deny you have some sort of attraction toward her.

"How does moving in today after work sound?" he asks, shoving his hands in his pocket.

"I need time to pack my stuff," you answer, not taking your eyes off the floor tiles. You need time to figure out how to get out of what you just got yourself into. "What about my dog?"

"Since when do you have a dog?" Chase asks. "Leave him with Thirteen. Tomorrow after work is fine too."

"I don't want to leave him," you reply, rocking back and forth on your heels. Your palms feel sweaty and you shakily rub them against your shirt sleeves. "I love him."

"Don't be a baby, Cameron. It's a dog." He shakes his head. "I'll get you a goldfish or something if you want a pet. Tomorrow after work it is. I'll see you at lunch."

-----

You don't go to lunch. A few patients come into the ER and you try to concentrate on them but you can't stop thinking you may be spending tomorrow night without Remy. You still need her. Nervousness makes you feel sick to your stomach and you end up curled up on the couch in the lounge, trying with everything you have to hold back tears.

"I had to eat lunch with Wilson," Remy comments, walking into the lounge about a twenty minutes after you get there. "_Wilson_ of all people. What the hell are Wilson and I supposed to talk about? We discussed the weather, very awkwardly." She takes a seat beside you and rests her arm on your side. "Why aren't you eating, Allison?" she asks in a serious tone.

"I'm not hungry." Refusing to look at her, you pull at the fabric on the couch cushion. She doesn't want to tell you her issues, so why tell her yours?

"A waffle isn't going to cut it for the day." She lifts her arm from your side and sits up straight as you push her away from you.

"How does it feel to worry?" you ask, sitting up and scooting away from her. "This morning, I asked you to put on a different jacket because it was cold out. Now, you're sitting here telling me to eat because you dislike my eating habits. Think of it as the same thing."

"It isn't the same thing," she argues, sounding seriously concerned. "Do you know how much damage you could do to yourself not eating? You're going to make yourself sick."

"I don't care," you whisper. Clenching your jaw, you wrap your arms around yourself. "I already feel sick."

"Because you're getting yourself worked up over something." She glances at the clock. "I have fifteen minutes before I need to go prep a guy for surgery. You have the ER you need to get back to. We can't do this kind of stuff at work. We're eating a big dinner when we get home if you don't go eat lunch. Are you going to be okay until we leave?"

"I have to get to the ER." You press the palms of your hands to your eyes for a moment then get to your feet, leaving her sitting on the couch as you walk out.

-----

Remy meets you in the locker room when her shift is over. "I got a new jacket," she comments with a smile, spinning around once to show off the hoodie she's wearing. "I stole it from Kutner because after the Frosty incident, he deserves to freeze."

You realize she's trying to apologize to you for earlier that morning but you don't have anything to say. After pulling your own sweatshirt on, you shove your things into your locker then shut it and lock it. Placing your hands in your front pocket, you tilt your head down slightly and walk toward the door.

"You're not really angry, are you?" she asks, following you. "If this is about this morning, I'm sorry. If it's about the eating thing, I'm sorry that cafeteria food tastes like paper."

Little realizations like that this will be the last time you go home with her start to sink in. Clasping your hands together in your pocket, you dig your nails into your palm to distract yourself with a new kind of pain. She's rambling on awkwardly and you assume she's attempting to fix things between the two of you.

"You're not really the silent treatment kind of person," she comments when you get to the car. "You're too nice for that."

"Do you think I'm a baby?" you ask quietly, opening the passenger's side door and getting in. You glance at her as she walks around the car then turn to look out the window once she gets in.

"No offense, but you're at least thirty," she responds with a smirk. "You're far from being a baby."

"Do you think I act like a baby?" you rephrase the question. Not expecting the car to start, you jump at the noise. Pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration, you lean your forehead against the window and watch things pass by as she drives from the parking lot.

"You don't act like a baby," she assures you. "But even after all you've been through, you still have this sort of innocence to you. It's cute. Who told you that you act like a baby?"

"No one," you lie then breathe on the window you make it foggy. "I was just wondering." You draw a stick figure in the clouded part of the window and label it 'Chase' then swipe your hand over it.

"Drawing voodoo dolls?" she asks with a smirk, glancing over at what you're doing for a second.

"Yes." You also smirk then quickly feel guilty about it. You blow on the window again then draw another stick figure and label it 'Remy'. You draw Batman beside her chewing on what's supposed to be the jacket she was wearing that morning.

"Hey," she whines, glancing over again. "I don't know what that is, but it's not very nice."

Managing a slight smile, you draw yourself beside her. "How about that?"

"That's a little better." She pulls up to her apartment and turns off the car. "Let's go see what chaos your dog caused."

Your smile wavers because you're already attached to him and now you have to leave him with Remy. "Okay." You lift your hand to wipe the fading picture from the window then change your mind and open the door. "Do you think he ate all of our stuff?"

"I think he ate all _my_ stuff," she mutters, getting out of the car. She walks to your side then waits for you before heading inside.

"He just likes you," you tell her, following her to her apartment.

"No," she disagrees. "He just likes the taste of my shoes apparently." She unlocks the door and walks in to a surprisingly clean house. "What did you do?" she asks Batman straight off. He's sitting on the couch, wagging his tail.

"Don't be so accusing." You hesitate before going inside. If it was possible to stop time and just stand in the hall forever with her, you would. "Come here, Batman." You lean down and pat your legs then scoop him up once he runs to you.

"Of course he obeys _you_," she mumbles, ushering the two of you in further so she can shut the door. "I tell him to come and he bites me."

"He doesn't bite." You cuddle him and ruffle his hair. "You don't bite, do you? No." He licks your nose and nuzzles his face against yours. Your heart physically aches as you snuggle with him and you don't want to put him down. You think back to that morning when you were snuggled in bed with him and Remy and know you're going to be miserable at night now without the two of them. You realize you'll probably feel miserable a lot for awhile because Chase doesn't tune into you like she does, and you don't even want him to.

"House had a case today," Remy says, kicking her shoes off. "He was being an ass and wouldn't let me do anything except prep the guy for surgery, so I was doing a lot of thinking." She turns to face you and wraps her arms loosely around your neck, looking hesitant. "I want to talk to you."

"Yeah?" You hug Batman and step closer to her. It's not only at night you like snuggling with her. "What do you want to talk about?" you ask slowly.

"I, um…" She glances down at the ground for a second before looking at you again. "I was thinking maybe you could stay here for awhile. You know, a few weeks or, uh, months."

Your heart implodes and drops from your chest to your stomach. Tears fill your eyes and your chin starts trembling. "R-Remy, I-"

"I know it's really soon to ask something like that," she cuts you off. "You seem to like it here though. I really like you here. I really like _you_. I've never had a friend like you before." She looks proud of herself for having said all that out loud but it seems to fade after a moment of staring at you. "What's wrong?"

"I…" You ball your hand into a fist and hold it to your mouth as you try to think of what to say. Tears start overflowing and you can't look at her. "I'm leaving," you choke in a whisper. She stares at you dumbstruck and you slowly move her arms from around you. "I'm going tomorrow."

A brief flash of pain crosses her features and she looks like she wants to take her words back. "Where are you going?" She takes a slight step back and tries to look you in the eye.

Taking shaky breaths through your mouth, you put Batman down then reach in your pants pocket and pull out the key to Chase's apartment. "Chase wants me to move in with him."

She makes an "oh" sound like she forgot Chase even existed. "I should have kept my mouth shut." Emotion fades from her voice and expression.

"Remy, I'm so sorry." You squeeze your eyes shut and wipe at the tears on your face. You feel like you validated her desire to avoid connecting with people and remain cynical. "I am _so_ sorry."

"It's fine." She seems to be building her walls back up.

Opening your eyes, you watch her shove her hands in her pockets and walk into the kitchen. "_Remy…_" She ignores you and you suddenly need to find something to occupy yourself with. Covering your face with your hands, you start sobbing and walk hastily to the bedroom. Your suitcase is in the corner and instead of packing, you kick it. Then you kick it a few more times before you turn away from it and hit the wall.

Everything is ruined. You want to go back to loving Chase so this all will be easier, but you don't feel anything for him anymore. Sure, he's handsome, but he doesn't make you feel good. He has a habit of making everything worse for you.

Some of your clothes are on the floor so you nudge them into a pile with your foot. You plan on taking Remy's hoodie with you whether she likes it or not. You need it. Getting to your knees, you shove things inside your suitcase. It doesn't matter if you forget anything. Grabbing Remy's hoodie, you bring it to your face and inhale her scent because you got used to it as a source of comfort.

Batman approaches you and you push him away gently. He'll have to adjust to living with just Remy, if she even decides to keep him. He tucks his tail between his legs and sulks from the room. She has to keep him, you decide. The two of you are his family and he can't just go back to the shelter. She doesn't seem to like him very much though.

Shrinking in the corner, you pull your knees to your chest and curl your arms up over your head. It hurts to breathe and all you can do is choke for air. Just when you thought things were getting better, it hurts to live again. Everything is being turned upside down once more and you don't want to move from your hiding spot against the wall.


	17. Chapter 17

**Twampy:** Awww. Don't be a silent reader! Where's the fun in that? You miss out on all the discussion happening up here! With everyone trying to convince me to somehow have Remy kick Chase's butt...I'm gonna soon have to figure out how to fit that in!  
**JB:** I know. I was just wondering what your opinion on what angsty angst is is. And sorry. I'll work on changing him.  
**Tepperz:** Because being nice would be no fun! Don't dislike me. I have the power to make you wait weeks for updates. Ahaha.  
**Jungle:** Hating is no fun. Enjoy him. He'll be gone soon enough. (And, no, that's not a hint I'm killing him, Guys!)  
**Nameless:** Aw. I'm not mean and you know it! Ok...So, maybe I am. Ha. Maybe Remy will kick his ass. Maybe. No internet for awhile?! What kind of primitive place are you going to?! Dx See...now you'll just have to review every chapter you missed. Ha. -will miss you till you get back!-  
**YDPP:** Definitely a terrific trio. Batman must be included. He doesn't like being left out. Heh. I have a me/electronics chart. Electronics are kicking my ass. It's like 14565475473 to 0.5.  
**Ina:** Mhm. I made Rebecca. Something about her and behaving doesn't go so well together. Tearing apart is fun, btw. Fortunately for you, if I don't bring them closer (eventually), I'll have nothing to continue the fic with. -eyes Rebecca-  
**Ilive:** Yay for normal person reviews! They make my fic look more popular. Haha.  
**WrongObsession:** Ooh. What's the 5th way? Have Remy kick his ass or have him be killed? That seems to be what everyone else is voting. Ha. Pain is great though. My fics require masochist readers, I think.  
**Less than 13:** Since when are my chapters ever light? -innocent smile- I'll think about 13/Chase fighting. xD  
**Setyourself:** I have no plans to kill Chase. He's not on my hitlist (currently). And, yes, I do have a hitlist. Not saying who or if anyone is currently on it though.  
**Wesley:** I don't get along with light chapters. I argue enough with light scenes! It'd be hard to continue for a long time if they're not together, so...there, you have some hope! And, if there's a showdown, I'll let you know up here when I post that chapt.  
**Amazon:** Batman will be my bodyguard. He's viscious. Remy and Rebecca will agree. I actually had no plans for Chase for awhile until everyone started mentioning him. So now he's back for awhile! House so shoulda had more Cam/Wilson.

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

The tears start welling up in your eyes before you get to the bottle of vodka beneath the kitchen counter. Thoughts of going to Rebecca's apartment are abandoned because you're not about to let her see you cry. You're not sure whether you're more upset she's actually leaving or that you opened up to her and she humiliated you by shutting you down. That was the last time you'll ever let people in though. If even someone like Cameron manages to hurt you, it's just not worth it.

Not bothering with a glass, you open the vodka and take a swig right from the bottle. It's hard to believe you actually bought into the thoughts she actually enjoyed being with you. Preparing yourself for the worst because you don't want to hurt anymore, you tell yourself the only reason she has for going is because she's already sick of you. You don't blame her. You're sick of yourself. You want to be tired of her too, but you find you can't be.

Taking small swallows from the bottle, you try to ignore her crying no matter how much it tugs at your heart. When it sounds like she's gasping for air, you become alerted and can't just stand in the kitchen anymore. Cursing angrily under your breath, you place the bottle on the table and walk through the living room and down the hall.

Batman is sulking outside your bedroom. He's lying on his stomach with his head resting on his front paws, whimpering. When you walk by, he glances up at you with big eyes and drags himself on his belly to your feet.

Realizing she probably shooed him out of the room, it's hard not to take pity on him. Realizing that a dog can't really hurt you, you bend down and scoop him up then cradle him against your chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder and keeps his tail tucked between his legs. "You're okay," you murmur quietly, keeping your voice down so Cameron won't know you left the kitchen. Scratching his back, you kiss the side of his fuzzy head.

Glancing in the room, you try to keep out of sight. Cameron has her face hidden against her arms and one of your sweatshirts anyway. There's still something in you that tells you to rush to her aid and hold her until everything is better. A bigger part of you reminds you she feels she no longer needs you so you turn and walk away again, deciding she's fine on her own for the time being at least.

Holding Batman with your good arm, you wipe furiously at your tears with your hand and ignore how much the movement hurts your wrist. It's impossible to remember the last time you allowed yourself to get so attached to someone you actually cried over them and now you remember why. If you're going to cry, you need a reason that doesn't make you feel so pathetic. Spinning around, you punch the wall and muffle a sob against Batman's fur as your already aching wrist suddenly becomes engulfed in pain.

Breathing heavily, you put Batman down and cradle your throbbing arm to your chest. The radio looks like a good distraction from everything and you walk into the kitchen to turn it on. Batman follows at your heels, playfully trying to get you notice him again by biting the legs of your pants. Letting your arm drop back down to your side, you turn the radio on. The first song that comes on is Safety Suit's Stay and you can't even listen anymore. Immediately, you turn it off and shove the radio hard enough against the wall to put a crack in the plastic.

Turning around, you grab the bottle of vodka again and vow to drink until you either forget Cameron or hate her. Neither seems very likely. Not hearing her crying anymore, you take a drink and walk back to the bedroom once more. Batman latches onto your pants and you stumble because you're forced to drag him across the floor with you. "Stop," you whisper when you almost fall and spill the alcohol. He growls and you give up and just let him be. Peeking in the bedroom, you notice Cameron fell asleep on the floor.

She can't possibly be comfortable, but you refuse to allow yourself to move her to the bed. It hurts that you even allow her to have the bed if she wants it and are willing to take the couch. Taking another small swallow, you wonder if that morning when you argued over jackets was the last straw for her. Who are you to be seeking attention anyway? You can't find a single reason as to why you would deserve anyone's attention, let alone hers. You should have settled for just giving her attention and left it at that. Maybe then she wouldn't be going, or at least not be going on such short notice. A few days warning would have made things slightly better.

Batman practically gives you a limp as you drag him back out to the living room. He chewed a hole through part of your pants and reattached his teeth to the other leg. When you collapse back onto the couch, he jumps up beside you.

"Go sleep with Cameron," you slur after a few more gulps. "I don't want you." He doesn't leave and so you put the bottle on the floor then curl up so you're facing the back of the couch, trying to ignore him. Your eyelids feel heavy but it's hard to sleep. Pulling the folded blanket off the back of the couch, you hug it tightly and try to pretend it's Cameron.

The alcohol makes you feel warm and you enjoy the false illusion. Enough people, exes mainly, have told you you're a cold person enough times for you to believe it. Then again, you never let any of those people as close as you allowed Cameron to be. You regret opening up to Cameron. Maybe being cold is better. It's easier and sure as hell is a lot less painful. You have vodka and many other types of alcohol for whenever you need to feel warm and pretend everything is okay.

-----

Morning comes far too soon after a restless night. At first, you actually tried to sleep. A few hours later, it hit you that the sooner you slept, the sooner it would be morning and you'd have to face Cameron and deal with her moving out. Hearing your alarm going off back in your bedroom, you place the still folded blanket over your head. A second later, you realize ignoring the alarm doesn't make it stop so you don't have to get up. Not wanting to deal with Cameron, you get up then make a beeline for the bathroom to get a shower.

Hearing the pitter patter of Batman's paws following you down the hall, you place the paper can and laundry basket by the door to prevent him from pushing it open. The screeching of your alarm stops and you replace the noise by turning on the shower. Unwrapping your wrist, you toss the cloth on the floor then place your hand under the spray and adjust the temperature until it's hot enough for your liking. You need it so hot it will scald you numb, even if that sounds like an oxymoron.

Your razors are still hiding and you grab one and place it on the floor. Taking the paper can from in front of the door, you slam it down hard on the razor until it breaks the blade and plastic. You pick up the blade pieces and lay them flat on your palm then push Cameron's electric razor onto the floor so you can lay them out on the sink. The sharpest shard of metal slips and goes down the drain so you're forced to settle for the second sharpest because you don't want to break another razor.

The other metal and plastic pieces get tossed in the paper can. You hide them by unrolling a few pieces of toilet paper and laying it on top of them. After today, you won't have to hide anything. Though, after today, you won't have to limit the pain you cause yourself to something as simple as cutting. Thinking that way is supposed to make you feel better, but instead it makes you feel miserable. Cameron was a reason to be a better, stronger person. Without her, Remy is replaced by Thirteen again. _Remy was pathetic anyway. _That doesn't make you feel better either.

You place the blade on the edge of the shower then pull your clothes off and get in. The hot water burns and you stand directly under it, moving so the spray will scald new spots when parts of your body start getting used to it. Hearing Cameron's footsteps going down the hall, you grab the blade and slide it across the underside of your arm once to distract yourself. The second time comes when you hear her voice talking to the dog. The third goes right across your wrist in the shape of '13' because you're upset enough over things to be cutting yourself in the first place and need a reminder of who you are. You need a reminder not to care.

Holding your arm out from under the shower spray, you watch your blood form at the surface of the slices then fall in drops to the water below. The angry, red color tinges the water at your feet a light crimson. You swish the water around with your toes to blend the color a bit more. Knowing how dangerous cutting can be yet doing it anyway makes you feel strong. Sure, you didn't cut deep enough to kill yourself but you know you could if you wanted to. Instead, you chose to live. Deep down, you know that's a way to justify what a coward you are. Not for living, but for turning to something so destructive to make yourself feel better. It doesn't take courage to live when you already know you'll probably be dead before you turn forty-five. Being alive when you doubt you even should be since you're going to die anyway is in and of itself the coward's way out to you.

Grabbing a washrag, you apply pressure to the cuts to stop them from bleeding. It would take too much wasted effort to wash the blood stains from the rag so when you're finished with it, you lean out of the shower and toss it in the paper can.

The normal draft of cold air that usually hits you upon turning the shower off can't even be felt by you. You grab the wrap for your wrist then pull a towel around yourself and sneak out of the bathroom. Mind focused on getting to the bedroom without seeing Cameron, you're shocked when you run into her in the hall. Your towel drops but you manage to catch it and yank it back up before too much of your chest is revealed.

"Sorry!" She quickly backs away from you until she's just about pressed up against the wall. "I was just going to get my suitcase. I didn't realize you were coming out of the bathroom and-"

"Could you stop rambling?" you ask, walking past her. "It's annoying. Watch where you're going next time." Not glancing back, you walk into your room and shut the door behind you. From the slight glance you got of her, she looked exhausted. You heard her crying once in the middle of the night and wonder if she went back to sleep after that due to the dark circles under her eyes. Yesterday it would have been so easy to call off work and just nap with her all day on the couch. You wish you would have done so. Maybe things would have turned out different.

As you get dressed, you keep looking at her suitcase in the corner. Once she's gone, you'll go through your things and throw away anything she forgot. You don't want to be stumbling upon her things at random times and being forced to think about her, so you plan on searching the entire house for anything that might be hers.

You wear jeans that are slightly tight and a shirt that's low-cut because you want to direct House's attention to body parts other than your face. Even sexual comments would be better than comments on the dark circles under your eyes or the perpetual frown plastered on your face. House won't know about any of this, if you can help it. You realize he'll find out within an hour, but that'll at least be an hour of peace beforehand.

You open the door and walk past Cameron, refusing to look at her. "Get your stuff. We're leaving. You still have things in the bathroom you need to pack."

"Remy, can we talk?" she asks, following you and gently grabbing your elbow.

"Don't call me Remy," you snap, pulling your arm away from her. "We don't need to talk. Get your stuff before I leave without you."

"I haven't even brushed my hair yet." Her voice sounds choked and rushed as she runs her fingers through her tangled locks, walking quickly to the bathroom.

"I'm putting the dog in the car!" you call to her, glancing around for Batman.

"I'm not taking him," she calls back weakly. "Chase said he doesn't want a dog."

Another stab to the heart. "Then I'm putting that damn glass tree in the car." If she doesn't want your gift, you don't want hers either. You walk to the living room and grab the tree and the gifts from her parents. "Actually, I'm throwing them out!" You're sure you hear her muffle a sob, but it doesn't affect you. You can't feel anything. Taking the gifts into the kitchen, you drop the ones from her parents in the trashcan. After one last look at the tree, you open a cupboard under the sink and place it in the very back.

She's not crying when she comes back into view, dragging her suitcase on the floor. Tears are in her eyes and her lips are making a straight line, but it's obvious she's fighting to be strong and not break down. "We're still going to see each other at work, right?"

"We never did before so let's not start now." You walk into the room and take your keys off the hook by the door. After a moment, you grab your jacket. Instead of putting it on, you drop it on the floor in front of her to make a statement. You give her a look that you hope says, _How about that, huh?_ then open the door and walk into the hall.

She hangs her head and slumps her shoulders, trying to stay close to you as you shut and lock your apartment door then walk to the car. "I want to be friends with you," she whispers.

"You're not my friend," you answer coldly. "You were never my friend." Part of you is already beginning to believe it.

-----

"You're late," House comments as you walk into the room. He already has his whiteboard out and a patient's symptoms written down. "You look like hell. Love the outfit though. I'm guessing you and Cameron broke up so now you're hoping to seduce one of the nurses."

"Shut up, House." You glance at the clock and frown at the time. Cameron took forever just to get her suitcase out of the car and you had to wait for her so you could lock the doors. "Are we discussing a case?" you ask, taking a seat between Kutner and Taub.

"No," Taub mutters. "We have a case, but House was harassing Foreman and Kutner was announcing he renewed his subscription to National Geographic."

House harassing Foreman is nothing new and not all that interesting. "You get National Geographic?" you ask, arching a brow at Kutner. "Isn't that for five year olds and Geography teachers?"

"I just thought maybe you would want to know what's going on in my life since I have to listen to yours," Kutner tells Taub before turning to you. "National Geographic isn't for five year olds."

You pause and bite your lip. "Oh, sorry. I was thinking Ranger Rick. It's like the same thing." That causes Taub to snort in amusement.

Kutner glares at both of you. "National Geographic and Ranger Rick aren't even close to being the same." He frowns and shakes his head. "Did you know seahorses have no teeth and no stomach?" he asks you. Food passes through their digestive system so quickly that they have to eat almost constantly to stay alive."

"Huh." You place your elbow on the table and rest your head against your hand as you pretend to be interested. You wonder if Rebecca got any new outfits or fixed the pole the two of you broke on her canopy bed the other week.

"Are you going to say yes?" Kutner breaks you from your thoughts, apparently having changed subjects. "Thirteen?"

"What?" you ask, sitting up a bit straighter. "Sure, whatever." Kutner grins and Taub smirks though House and Foreman are too busy arguing over something that has to do with Vocal Cord Paralysis. Leaning to the side, you glance at Taub. "What did I just say yes to?"

"Have fun on your lunch date," Taub comments.

"Thirteen has a date?" House asks, tuning back in. "I didn't know you could seduce nurses so fast, and without even being in the same room as any of them."

"I'm taking her out to lunch," Kutner announces proudly.

House looks disappointed. "Don't be too happy. Rebounds never work out."

"Would you shut up?" you ask him. "I didn't break up with Cameron. It's impossible to break up with someone you never dated in the first place."

"Someone should let Cuddy in on that," House says. "She breaks up with me multiple times a day."

Rolling your eyes, you turn to face the whiteboard. "Hoarseness, shortness of breath, vocal fatigue, pulmonary aspiration," you read. "Vocal Cord Paresis sounds logical."

"We already figured that out, Genius," House replies. "We're trying to determine why. I say tumors."

"We didn't find any tumors, House," Foreman argues with him. "We looked. There was nothing."

"Well, you must not have looked hard enough." House turns to face you. "Thirteen, go recheck for tumors. Take your boyfriend with you. Want me to page Cameron so you can make her all jealous?"

Scowling at him, you get to your feet. "Cameron and I are fine," you lie.

"If you were fine, you wouldn't be so defensive. You also wouldn't look like you haven't gotten any sleep." He pauses. "Unless the sex is just that good."

"I'm going to look for tumors." You leave the room and are followed by Kutner. "What room is the patient in?" you ask, glancing up and down the hall.

"He's that way," Kutner says, pointing. "Only not on this floor."

"I know what floor. Wouldn't it have been easier to just say the room number?" You ask. Shaking your head, you shove your hands in your pockets and walk toward the elevator.

"Am I really a rebound?" Kutner asks, following you. "I mean, I'm okay with that. I'm just wondering. I was just thinking that-"

"So, when did Foreman check for tumors?" You remove your hand from your pocket and hit the button for the elevator. "I wasn't that late."

"He was here last night," Kutner answers. He stares at your wrapped wrist. "I did mean to catch you, you know. You landing on Frosty was pretty great, but I didn't think you'd get hurt."

"I know." You're sure this is going to be the longest day of your life. Not only can you not stop thinking about Cameron, now you have to deal with Kutner. That was easier to do before Cameron suggested he likes you. There you go with thinking about Cameron again. The elevator doors open and you step inside, moving over so Kutner can get in too.

You're about to hit the floor button when you notice Cameron walking toward the elevator. Quickly directing your finger, you hit the button to close the elevator door.

"Wait." Kutner puts his foot next to the door right before it closes and it reopens instead.

Before Cameron looks up from a few papers she's holding, you turn and kick Kutner hard in the shin.

"Thank you," Cameron says. She glances at him and tilts her head to the side as he jumps a few times and rubs his ankle.

"What was that for?" Kutner hisses before it apparently hits him. "Oh. Oh!" He clears his throat and glances between you and Cameron. "What floor?"

"Third," she answers, moving over toward you and leaning against the wall. Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, she stares at the floor for a moment then glances at you. "Hey." When you don't respond, she continues. "Are you just going to ignore me now?"

You push both floor buttons then turn to Kutner. "So, National Geographic," you say, nodding your head in an exaggerated manner. _So, Rebecca and canopy beds. Oh, and vodka. Can't forget the vodka. _

Cameron rocks back on her heels and stares at the ground again, clenching her jaw. "Just let me explain," she pleads. "Chase was-"

The elevator door opens and you casually step out as if she wasn't even talking. It hurts to hear the sound of her voice. Her voice is beautiful and you could listen to it for hours. It's soft and-_Think about Rebecca. Naked. With vodka. And poles. That time with the whipped cream is pretty distracting._ You consider trying to pull some strings to get Cameron's schedule changed so it'll clash with yours as little as possible. It seems like no matter what, you can't stop thinking about her in some way.

Glancing back, you watch her grip the elevator railing so tightly her knuckles turn white. She tilts her head down and tries to subtly wipe away a single tear that rolls down her cheek.


	18. Chapter 18

**Ilessthree:** I realized you didn't review too. I thought about waiting...but my patience goes down into the negatives when it comes to posting chapters. Heh. Just enjoy Kutner! Haha. He'll go away eventually. Chase will eventually go away too.  
**Setyourself: **-sends Remy and Cam to revive you- Don't die. If you die, you can't read and review. -wink-  
**Kj:** We'll fix that eventually. Gosh...I feel like I'm saying eventually to everything. Cam will get better...eventually (Had to add that in!). Rebecca won't go away completely...unless Remy moves. But anyway.  
**JB:** I skimmed some of your fics. No moping! -puts up No Moping Allowed sign-  
**Ina:** Thank you. For your compliments...not really for giving Rebecca back. Was she too much to handle? Haha.  
**Vani:** They have to move apart before I put them back together. Sowwy. Eventually, she'll get tired of Rebecca.  
**Melissa:** Thank you! Sorry when my lack of updates makes you mope. -grin- I try to update quickly. I'm as anxious for reviews as y'all are for updates. Why are you all so intent on killing Chase? And now you're all going to be after me to have Remy kill him? xDDDD  
**Twampy:** Your name is Rebecca? Think of it this way. You get to pretend it's you being with Remy. Does that make things any better? xD Happiness is overrated...for now.  
**Eva:** Well, here's another chapt for you to read!  
**Nameless:** We must be in-tune. The power of brainwaves! I'm not responding to any more of this Chase-ass-kicking stuff. Haha. I'm overwhelmed with you all wanting me to take him down. I LIKE Chase!!! xDDDD At least /someone/ thinks Kutner is being cute. He really does pose no threat. -stares at Batman- Yeah. He's my character. I know him too well to fall for those eyes.  
**Roronoa:** A malicious, sadistic, brilliant author? That may be the best compliment ever. I had it as my FB status for a few hours to brag. Cameron does care for Remy, btw. And Kutner is not a threat. Don't dislike him just 'cause he likes Remy. Chase and Rebecca? Just the thought makes my brain hurt. xD  
**Bigblusky: **I love the different range of emotions. Some of you are ticked off at Thirteen and others feel bad for her. It amuses me.  
**D:** Totally not wrong! You all make me question the similarities of my fics and drugs. Cause some of you seem addicted. It's great!  
**Lilk:** Yeah. I guess that does sum it all up. Lol.  
**Ilive:** Sad is great. Bahaha. And yeah...I have a habit of making things hit rock bottom before I lift them back up again.  
**YDPP: **Angsty is totally a word...even though when I type it, I get that little red, squiggly line under it. But what do squiggly lines know?! According to my math professor, you should never be afraid of squiggly lines.  
_Professor: I refuse to stop drawing squiggly lines. The point is squiggly lines are not to be afraid of.  
Boy: Then why are you doing them?  
Professor:...So people won't be scared of them! _  
Anyway...now that I'm off on some rant about lines. Half a computer...? Close enough! My computer is fine, but my charger is broken. I'm borrowing my brother's. I should mention elevators more often just to freak you all out. -snort-  
**Lessthan13:** I'm typing your name without spaces, because...I don't really have much of a reason. Yay for pictures of Batman! How cuuuute! Offer all the selfish ideas you want. Lol. Stalker guy will be back. You'll even get to meet him eventually!  
**Amazon:** Peaceful is good! I'm sadistic enough for all of us, k? Ha. Drama pwns.

Just curious - Is all the angst much too much for y'all?

I think Wilson will be making more of an appearance when Cam is around. Yay or nay? But don't /hate/ him! He's as much of a threat as Kutner is...which is 0. Direct all your hate toward Chase and Rebecca. Ha.

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

You poke at your sandwich and try not to look around the cafeteria because you know Remy is only a few tables away. Not only aren't you hungry but you wonder if she'll eventually walk over and try to convince you eating is necessary. She seems too caught up in a conversation with Kutner to even notice you though. Pursing your lips together as you try to come up with a plan to get her to stop ignoring you, you run your fingers through your hair then rest your head against your hand.

"Sorry. I was in the OR longer than I expected to be." Chase takes a seat beside you and places a sandwich and bottle of water on the table in front of him. "You're not eating?"

"I'm not hungry." You glance over at him then stare down at the table again. Sighing, you lift your head from your hand and begin peeling the crust off the bread for something to do. "You're not going to try to convince me to eat?" you ask after a moment.

"If you're not hungry, you're not hungry," he answers with a shrug. "Do you want some tea or something?"

Shaking your head, you subtly glance over at Remy. Out of all the times you wanted her to just let you not eat, now you wish she was over here forcing you to take a few bites of your sandwich. Instead, she's with Kutner and the two of them are smirking at something. "I need to get back to the ER." There's still nearly twenty minutes left to your lunch but being in the same room as Remy is painful.

"Alright." Chase nods and takes a drink from his water. "I'll see you at five."

"Five," you confirm under you breath as you get to your feet. Even saying it out loud doesn't make it feel real. It still seems like you'll be going back to Remy's house and spending time with her and Batman. "See you then." You force a smile at him then take the long way out of the cafeteria, walking around all the tables so you don't have to walk by Remy.

Tea does sound good now that it was mentioned. Stopping once you're in the hall, you check your pager to make sure it didn't go off while you were daydreaming then walk toward the lounge. Your head is a mess but you try to just focus on work. Being a doctor leaves no time for mental breakdowns. It doesn't help when your co-workers include both Remy and Chase though. Unless you hide in the ER and hope House doesn't send Remy to help you, you're almost out of luck when it comes to avoiding them.

You walk by Wilson's office and glance inside, watching him stack celery smothered in peanut butter in the shape of a cabin on his desk. "Tie your tie all by yourself this morning?" you ask with a small smile, stopping by the doorway.

"I'm growing up fast," he jokes, glancing up at you. He looks back down at his celery cabin and seems to doubt his previous statement. "When it comes to dressing myself anyway."

The corners of your lips tug upward.

"Do you need a consult or something?" Wilson asks, watching you. "I'm on lunch, but-"

"No, I don't need a consult." You shake your head and your smile fades. "I was just walking by. I should get going."

"You can come join me if you want," he offers, shrugging. He reaches down beside his desk and picks up a bag of celery and a jar of peanut butter. "You can eat instead of build."

"Thanks." You walk inside and shut the door behind you, not wanting to be bothered unless it happens to be someone that needs Wilson. "I think I'd rather eat than pretend they're Lincoln Logs." You pull a chair closer to his desk and take a seat.

"What's happening in the ER?" he asks, destructing his cabin and biting into one of the celery sticks.

"You're not going to ask about me or Thirteen?" you question, opening the bag and taking a piece of celery. Not bothering with the peanut butter, you take a bite of it. Your stomach growls and you realize how hungry you really are.

"Prying is more of House's thing," he replies. "It's none of my business what's happening with you or Thirteen unless either of you want to talk about it."

Staring at him for a moment, you try to process what he just said. It seemed like Remy was the only safe person in the hospital up until now. House was probably trying to get information out of her. Chase was bothering you. Everyone else was more than likely gossiping. "Thank you." You give him a half smile then focus on your piece of celery again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, watching you. He grabs his previously unopened water bottle then opens it and pours half of it in a mug. "Here." He sets the bottle in front of you.

You seriously consider telling him all that's happening. He would be a good person to talk to. In a way, his line of work involves listening to people and really paying attention. Talking to Remy isn't going to be possible anymore. Chase isn't the easiest to be around right now. You're nervous that everything is going to build up and you're going to explode. "Maybe later," you reply, nodding. "Not right now."

He nods. "I heard the ER has been slow lately. Any interesting patients?"

-----

"Mom, it isn't my fault! Archie is a stupid brother! He said if I put on the cape, I really _would_ be able to fly!"

"Eric, you're going to need to sit still," you tell the five year old as you work on stitching up a nasty cut on his arm. The boy's mother is standing beside the bed with her arms crossed tightly across her chest, a mix of worry and anger etched into her features. "I can't stitch you up when you're wiggling."

"You don't _understand_, Dr. Cameron," he says, shaking his head. "Archie put on the cape and he flew! He really did!" He swats your arm away to avoid the needle and points at the ten year old. "Tell them!"

The older boy swallows and glances at his mother then kicks at the ground. "Well, I didn't _really _fly," he mumbles, glancing at Eric. "I-"

The curtain opens and House limps over to the bed. "What did you do to Thirteen?"

"Now is really not the time, House," you scowl at him. "I'm working."

"So am I," he answers. "How did _you_ manage to hurt _Thirteen_? I was waiting for things to be the other way around."

"Excuse me," you tell Eric's mother and stand up straight. "I'm going to get Dr. Michael." You turn to Eric. "Try to let him stitch up your arm."

House uses his cane and motions you to step away from your patient. "This is important."

"I'm very sorry for Dr. House's interruption," you tell the family then step outside and close the curtain. You nod a male doctor over then turn to face House and lower your voice. "I didn't do anything. This is none of your business."

"It is my business," he argues with you. "If something is wrong with one of my ducklings, I think I should be one of the first to know."

"You really care that much about her well-being, huh?" you ask sarcastically, walking away from him. A pile of unorganized charts catches your eye. "Is she acting like something is wrong?"

"She had lunch with _Kutner_," House answers. "With _only_ Kutner. That's almost as weird as her having lunch with Wilson yesterday. And _that's_ even weirder than you having lunch with him today. You screwed with her somehow."

You pick up the files and look through them then turn to face him. "I didn't screw with Thirteen. So, if I have lunch with Taub tomorrow, are you going to assume she did something to me?"

"Of course not!" House exclaims loudly. "I'm going to assume Taub is having trouble with his wife and you're being a home wrecker!"

Rolling your eyes, you clutch the files to your chest and try to avoid people's stares. "House, just let it go," you hiss. "Don't come back unless you need something important."

-----

_House will not add any more stress to my day than there already is. House will not add any more stress to my day than there already is. _Those words have been the mantra in your head for the past hour. Sighing, you put on a new pair of gloves then pull open a curtain to come face to face with House and Kutner. "What the hell are you doing?" So much for trying to project order and smoothness. Drama is clearly hell-bent on happening and of course House is the source of it.

"I was almost impaled," Kutner replies, holding out his arm to show you a deep cut going from about two inches from his wrist up to the inside of his elbow. "House removed the legs from my chair and I killed the whiteboard."

"I'm here because I'm so _guilty_," House says, pursing his lips together and shaking his head. "I feel so awful for my practical joke now that someone is hurt."

"No, you don't," Kutner says, glancing up at him.

"Shut up before I really do impale you," House warns him.

"House!" you scold, walking over to Kutner and examining the cut. "You wanted a reason to come back here so you removed the legs on Kutner's chair?"

"Actually, that was where Thirteen usually sits," House answers, shrugging. "Either way, it gave me a reason to come back."

"So you tried to have Thirteen cut by the whiteboard?" you confirm, walking over to the supplies to get some disinfectant. "She already has an injured arm."

"Actually, it all played out different in my head," House replies. "She was supposed to fall backward and hit her head on the wall. Not only would I have a reason to come down here, maybe she'd realize how weird eating lunch with Kutner and Wilson is."

"You eat lunch with Wilson all the time," you remind him. After glancing the disinfectant over and making sure there's still some in there, you pick up some gauze too and walk back over to Kutner. "It doesn't look like it needs stitches."

"I eat lunch with Wilson because he buys my food," House defends himself. "What did you do to Thirteen?"

"Why do you assume just because Thirteen had lunch with Kutner that I did something to her?" you ask, glaring at him.

"Yeah," Kutner agrees with you. "Maybe she likes me."

"Exactly." Jealousy begins to pull at your heart. "Maybe she likes him. He's very…" You pause and try to think of something good about him even though you know nothing about him. "He's very funny."

"You think I'm funny?" Kutner asks with a grin.

"Stop talking." You pour disinfectant over his cut and he draws in a sharp breath at the burning feeling. "House, if you think something is wrong, go ask her."

"I did," House replies. "She says she's fine. You know how else I know something is wrong with her?"

"How?" you ask, trying to make it sound like you're not even interested. You are interested and you feel intensely guilty that she's taking your leaving so hard. "Wait, let me guess. You know something is wrong with her because she's denying something is wrong with her."

"Besides that," House says. "You made her feel all confident. She's second-guessing everything she does."

Letting out a breath, you try to focus on wrapping Kutner's arm. "Try not to hurt your team anymore because I'm leaving."

"Aha." House nods. "Thirteen isn't leaving because she still has a patient. That means you're going back to your own house."

"Well, I do live at my house," you remind him. "I probably have a more mail than I can-"

"I just brought you your mail for Christmas," Kutner cuts you off, tilting his head to the side. "Oh, wait. You didn't want him to know that." He pauses. "I didn't take her mail to her."

You press the gauze down extra hard against his cut. "Well, try not to show up at my house if you have any more hurt team members," you tell House. Fortunately, if he does, you'll be at Chase's. "Is there anything you need that isn't Thirteen related?"

"Nope," House replies smirking. "Got all I need to know. Thirteen is sad because she thought you were her friend and now you don't like her anymore," he explains in a mocking tone.

"I like Thirteen," you argue with him. You might like her a little more than you know you should. Arguing with him is pointless, but defending things eases some of your guilt.

"Oh, so you do _like_ Thirteen." House winks at you.

"Not like that!" You justify whatever feelings to have for her by telling yourself her caring for you confused how you were supposed to feel about her. "Leave, House."

"I'll find out what's going on," House informs you. "I always do." He nods for Kutner to get up. "Stop being such a baby and get back to the real patient." He waits for Kutner to walk away then follows. "And next time, sit in your own chair, Idiot!"

"I'm sorry!" Kutner exclaims, walking faster.

Groaning, you pull your gloves off and throw them away then sink down onto the bed. If House is going to make the ER hell for you, you're not sure what you're going to do. It's bad enough just being in the hospital in general makes you think of Remy.

-----

You try to remind yourself you've been to Chase's apartment plenty of times as you walk inside. It's not quite as homey as Remy's. Everything is different right down to how it smells and nothing makes you feel comforted. Even though Remy has more of the 'bachelor pad', her apartment is more comfortable, modern, and inviting than Chase's is. Gripping your suitcase, you question what to do with yourself and your things. Chase nudges you inside and you jump a few inches in the air then walk a few steps in. Biting your lip, you hold back the urge to ask him not to touch you.

"You can put your stuff down," Chase comments, closing the door behind the two of you. "I was thinking about calling for takeout for dinner. Is that okay?"

"That's fine," you mumble, dropping your stuff in front of you. Your appetite has abandoned you again, but you know you're going to have to get over it. It's definitely not healthy how much weight you've lost over the past few days. No matter how much you want to go back to Remy's, you know that isn't going to happen. Even if you were to ditch Chase, you doubt she'd let you back in. Having been moping enough, you try to tell yourself she would want you to take care of yourself.

"Good." He smiles at you. "Look, Cameron, I'm sorry if I somehow hurt you over these past few days. I don't know how to act."

Glancing down, you rub your arm. "It's okay," you reply despite that it still hurts you're staying with him instead of Remy. "I don't know how to act either." You force a smile and look at him again. "I'm getting tired. Let's get food and watch a movie or something."

"You look exhausted." He walks over to his house phone and picks it up then holds it to his ear. "Huh," he mumbles pulling it back and looking at it. "No dial tone." He holds it to his ear again. "Hello? Hello?"

"Is it plugged in?" You ask, tilting your head to the side. Walking over, you glance at the cord. It is plugged in. "Think phone lines are down for some reason?"

"It's a new phone," Chase tells you. "I guess it isn't as good as the box said it was." He hits the off and on button a few times before the dial tone can be heard. "There."

Something feels wrong, but you dismiss it. It makes you feel stupid that something as little as a phone mishap can scare you. Your mouth feels dry and your throat closes up but you focus on breathing. "It's kind of cold in here," you lie and walk back over to your suitcase. You kneel down and dig through it then pull out Thirteen's hoodie and put it on. It calms you down but you have a feeling you're going to be nervous and jumpy until you're in the hospital again and know she's in the same building.

Chase glances over at you then shrugs. "I could always turn up the heat," he suggests then dials a number in the phone.

"Right." You nod and glance at the ground, realizing adjusting might be even harder than you thought it would be.


	19. Chapter 19

**JB:** I can give you more Cam/Chase. And make Cam wig out if that's what you really want. xD Yup. Another visit to Rebecca.  
**Shan (1):** Thanks very much. Keep scrolling and looking for your name since you reviewed to multiple chapters. -smile-  
**Dark:** Hiya! Thank you so much for the compliments!  
**Eva:** House has to intervene. He's only allowed to slack off on clinic duty...not interrupting.  
**Bigblusky:** Ooh. You got me. It's totally Foreman! (Joking!). She'll get there eventually. I feel like I'm warning people not to be threatened by Kutner over and over and over. x-X  
**Shan (5):** Thank you again. Glad you like the 2nd person POV. I'm beginning to learn it gets in the way...but it's enjoyable to write.  
**Wonderous: **Bah. I know...I know. Major difference between writing House and writing LOST...I didn't feel rushed writing LOST. Plus...you tell me to write for me. I like angst...and keeping things at a slow pace. If people start dropping off...I'll live.  
**Roronoa:** A thesaurus might work better than a dictionary. People have used malevolent. That one's my favorite. I love people who like Kutner! Yay! Happy you're not mad at either. No one is getting hit by trucks or buses. Lol. and Batman will totally fix it all. -wink-  
**Melissa: **Wow! Long review! -celebrates!- Haven't you figured out I'm a major tease yet? Teehee. I love getting everyone all worked up over nothing...or making everything think things are calm right before an explosion. Here's a little bit of Chase/Remy to make you happy. Neither Kutner nor Wilson are to be feared. ...How could they even be scary? Batman is in this chapter!  
**Dominus:** I do not think Chase/Rebecca will cancel each other out. Lol. They're not a math equation. Wilson is not to be feared.  
**YDPP:** Glad you like the angst. And glad you like my squiggly line rant. Lol. House has to meddle. It's just...necessary. Aw. Stupid weather! We have high winds here. It's kinda funny bc somehow we're getting this draft. There's a vent above the middle of the living room...and I was standing there drooling over Cam and got blasted by cold air.  
**Ina:** Well, I need her for this chapter anyway. Gotta describe her more. I keep flipping back and forth with the plot. Both directions have their ups and downs.  
**Setyourself: **Don't die too much. I kinda need them here to put them in my story.  
**Greeen: **I'm glad you decided to review! And honored you have it saved on your phone. Hehe. Glad you like all the angst. Bore me by picking out everything you love? Haha! Long ramble-y reviews that boost my ego are the best!  
**D:** Aw. They'll get back together sooner or later. I'm so glad there's not a fanfics anonymous group. I have a feeling I'd lose all my readers. x-X And thanks!  
**Ilive:** Ahhh...the phone thing. -subject change- Bahaha. Thanks. Hopefully I'll find a place to add in Cam/Wilson talking, cause I want to.  
**Shan (9): **Late to the party? Phft. It's never-ending. We add people all the time. -confetti-  
**Lessthan13:** The spacebar and I dislike each other...so! Bunnyyy!!!!! -squee- Cute! Heyheyhey. No limiting my angsty-ness! I can't make fluff right now. I have no where to put it. I figure if y'all get tired of the angst, you'll lose interest in the fic and drop away anyway. Totally not saying who stalker guy is!  
**Twampy:** Don't have a heart attack. If you die, you can't read. Heh. Fortunately, we're in my world...with my reality. Bahahaha. More weird robin-like things? I'll get on that. -wink-  
**Shan (18): **I try to be evil. Happy to succeed! And thank you...er...again! Here's the next chapt! -smile-  
**Amazon:** Glad Kutner makes you laugh. He's supposed to be lowering the angst a bit. You might redirect more anger at Rebecca after this chapter. -shiftyeyes-  
**Ilessthree: **Yay, you remembered! I was semi-waiting for you to review before updating. Glad you're enjoying it!

* * *

**Thirteen's POV:**

Rebecca is not breathtakingly beautiful, nor is she pathetically plain, but roaming the pleasant acres between the two. Her thin body could never match the models on the posters plastered across her wall in cheap frames, but a healthy weight is more attractive anyway. Being a fashion photographer, she's the one behind the camera and has to worry more about how the models look than how she herself looks. Her fire red ringlets cover her face but she stares past them, her deep brown eyes boring into you as you slide your shirt on. "Leaving so soon?" she questions, holding the blanket of her bed to her bare chest as she sits. "We could always do it again."

You turn to face her, curling one leg under you and stretching the other one out. "Three times wasn't enough?" you ask with a smirk, running your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face. "I need to get going."

"Of course you do." She shakes her head so her hair flies wildly then tucks a curl behind her ear. Her hair is always all over the place when it's curly and you prefer it straight, but she rarely puts the effort into straightening it. "You're not even going to stay for a cup of coffee after using me?"

"I didn't use you." You both know it's a lie. The buttons on your shirt make for a good reason not to look her in the eye so you focus on buttoning them up one by one. The only reason you're there is to forget about Cameron. Unlike Rebecca, Cameron is beautiful. The first moment you saw her, you knew there _must _be a catch. She's like an apple so lovely it has to be poisoned. Now you can't get her off your mind or out of your heart. If you had known feelings could be this strong, you would have never let her out of your sight. "I was just in the mood for sex."

Rebecca snorts. "You've been over here enough that I can tell the difference between when you're using me and when you're just horny." Shaking her hair away from her face again, she leans back against her elbows. "You like it when I'm a bitch when you're using me."

"You're always a bitch," you remind her, leaving the top two buttons of your shirt undone. Narrowing your eyes, you glance around for your underwear. Clothes are strewn across her floor and you consider yourself lucky for even finding the correct shirt. "I just don't care that you enjoy being rough."

"No, you don't care," she agrees. "Because when you're using me, you encourage it." She points toward her closet. "Your panties are over there."

"Thanks." Crawling off the bed, you trip on a lamp cord and hop your way over to your underwear. "I don't encourage anything," you inform her, pulling on your panties then grabbing your pants and putting those on too.

"Whatever you say, Remy," she replies with a shrug. "I can tell when you like being in pain though. You look for reasons to scream more. This is about that girl that was staying with you, isn't it?"

"Shut up," you snap as soon as she mentions Cameron. "This has nothing to do with anything." For a split second, you wonder what things would be like with Cameron. It's not in Cameron's nature to inflict pain, even if you begged her to hurt you. She'd be gentle and careful with you, something you've never really experienced. Throat constricting, you attempt to swallow.

"Just think of it this way," she continues with a nonchalant attitude, sounding bored with the conversation. "If she stayed with you, I'd eventually have to up your rent. Life is cheaper without her." It's not like she needs the money which would give her a reason to encourage you to bring Cameron back. The apartments are 'co-owned' by her and her father. Her father has enough money, he could buy all the apartments in New Jersey if he wanted to.

Giving her a blank stare, you suddenly feel empty. In a way, her words are right. Life doesn't feel worth as much knowing that no one needs or probably even wants you around. "I have to feed the damn dog." Adjusting your clothes, you walk out of the bedroom.

"Remy!" she calls after you. "Just let her go like you do all the other ones!"

You're going to have to find a new sex partner and that's all there is to it. Rebecca is beginning to know you to well and you don't like it. Leaving her apartment, you make plans to go to the bar tomorrow night and find someone else who lives conveniently close to you.

As you walk into the hall, you notice the wall where someone had written the word 'slut'. It was washed off for the most part, but you can still make out the outline of the 's' and 'u'. Even if the person had directed it toward Cameron, you know the word fits you better than it ever will her. Clenching your jaw, you unlock your door then let yourself inside.

Batman glances up at you from his spot on the floor. He found a sweater you recognize as Cameron's and dragged it into your living room. Pouting, he puts his head down on his paws and swishes his tail back and forth a few times.

"Give me that," you mutter, advancing on him to take the sweater and throw it out. He bares his teeth and growls, protecting his find. Not about to get bit, you take a step back and just glare. "Fine. You can take it with you when I ship you back to the shelter, Dog." Keeping him seems pointless. He obviously doesn't like you and taking care of him is nothing but a hassle.

You walk around him and into the kitchen. You're about to go for the cupboard containing the liquor when there's a knock on the door. "Damn it, Rebecca, I'm not going back to your apartment!" The person knocks again and you drag yourself to the door. Turning the knob, you yank it open. "What do you-" Your voice comes to a halt as you face House.

"Who's Rebecca?" he asks, smirking at you. "And if you do decide to go back to her apartment, can I join?"

"What are you doing here?" you ask in a harsh whisper. Putting your good arm out, you support yourself against the doorframe and stand so he can't let himself in.

"Cameron told me not to go to her house," he explains.

"So you came to _mine_?" you ask, frowning. You'd rather he harass you than Cameron, honestly. She had enough things to deal with.

"Actually, I went to Cameron's house," House tells you. "She wasn't home. I didn't feel like visiting Chase's house to look for her." He pushes your arm out of his way and limps inside. "Nice place."

"Get out." Moving suddenly seems like a good idea. Ever since you brought Cameron home, you've received visits from Cuddy, Kutner, and now House. Your privacy has been raked.

"Relax," he says calmly. "It's not like I'm going to break anything." He glances around then turns to face you. "What did you do to Cameron?" he asks.

"This is none of your business," you growl, crossing your arms. "I didn't do anything."

"This is interesting," he replies, leaning on his cane. "What did Cameron do to you?"

"Leave," you demand, pointing to the door. "Isn't it bad enough I have to deal with you asking me these questions at work?"

"I figured you might answer them if no one else is around." House shrugs. He makes his way toward the door and into the hall. "I thought-"

You shut the door and lock it then look through the peephole. "Go away. I already know you'll bother me tomorrow."

"And it'll be double now!" His voice sounds cheery. "You sure you don't want to take a trip to see this Rebecca girl? Maybe we should go see Cameron together."

Groaning, you turn your back to the door and slouch back against it. "Go home, House. Don't you have Soaps to watch or porn to look at?"

"They'll be there when I get back," he answers you then pauses. "You know, if you don't want to see this Rebecca girl, we could always go to Cuddy's."

"I'm ignoring you," you inform him. "You might as well stop talking and leave." Trying to really ignore him, you walk back into the kitchen and dig through your cupboard for vodka. Drinking a few sips from the bottle, you carry it back into the living room and curl up on the couch. The Christmas decorations are still up and you stare at them, debating whether or not you want to take them down.

"I thought you had a thing for female co-workers," House says, tapping the door.

Closing your eyes, you tilt the bottle to your lips again. The alcohol warms you from the inside out but it doesn't distract you from how much of an ass House is. It's easy for you be to be stubborn enough not to answer him though.

"Looks like you and Cameron won't be having sex now though," he says. "She's with Chase, after all. Why is she with Chase instead of with you again?"

Tears welling up in your eyes, you tilt your head back and take a longer drink. The liquid doesn't help you swallow the lump in the back of your throat. It hits you that you're sitting home alone and Chase had the person who should currently be sitting beside you. You know eventually he'll get bored, but you don't want to deal with him. Leaning across the couch, you turn off the light then get to your feet. Turning in early is better than listening to House and you walk back to your bedroom, stumbling a few times along the way.

-----

_It just had to snow last night, didn't it? _The white ground reflects sunlight and practically blinds you as you make your way from your car to the hospital. Squinting in attempt to block out the light doesn't make your head stop pounding and you resent your genetics for giving you blue eyes. Even though everyone seems to favor blue eyes, you hate how sensitive they are. You despise your genetics in general because somehow you got passed all the faulty genes from blue eyes to Huntington's. It's mornings like this that you regret drinking, yet for some reason you always go back to it and it's also mornings like this that remind you why.

"Morning!" Kutner exclaims cheerfully, meeting you by the door. "I brought your coffee to work instead of to your apartment."

"You didn't have to bring me coffee." Your voice is hoarse from half a night of vomiting up the copious amount of alcohol you consumed. "Thanks though." You take the cup from him and walk inside as he holds the door for you.

"You're hung over, aren't you?" Kutner asks, eyeing you carefully. "If Cuddy finds out, she'll be-"

"I'm not hung over," you lie, shooting him a look. Sighing, you glance down at the coffee cup you're holding and rub your thumb across the lid as you debate whether or not to drink it. It could be regular and you drink decaf, but last time he bought you coffee it was decaf. You're not sure whether to trust he remembered again. You finally give in and take a few sips, letting the hot liquid scald your tongue and the roof of your mouth. "I just have a cold or something."

"Right." It's obvious he doesn't believe you, but he doesn't argue. He gives you a concerned look then glances down at the floor. "Well, the day is new and the sun is up!" He smiles at you.

"Someone slipped something into your coffee, didn't they?" You glance at your own coffee as if the cheerfulness might spread like a disease. Today is not a day you want to feel cheerful until you glance up and see Chase. He's leaning against the wall by the elevator, gulping down his own coffee.

"Late night?" you ask with calmly as you and Kutner approach him to take the elevator. "I must have forgotten to warn you Cameron would be keeping you up." It's wrong, but his exhausted appearance makes you feel smug and want to grin.

"She didn't keep me up all night," Chase says and stands up straight. "Thanks for your concern though," he states sarcastically.

"I'm guessing she cried all night," you continue then take a drink of your coffee. "Probably woke up screaming once or twice, right? It must have been really hard to comfort her while she was pushing you away." You keep a straight face, controlling yourself even though you want to mock him.

Chase stares at you seethingly. He practically punches the elevator button three times like it will make it faster. "We had a fine night. Both of us slept great."

"Huh." You nod your head and glance at the elevator doors as they open. "The circles under your eyes disagree." Grabbing Kutner's arm so he doesn't step on the elevator with Chase, you plan to take the next one. It's hard not to feel protective over Cameron and you try to bite back your words but they escape anyway. "If something happens to her because she's not sleeping or eating, I-"

Chase hits the button to close the elevator door.

"You're going to make him miserable, aren't you?" Kutner asks, smirking as he pushes the button for the elevator.

"Nope," you reply with a complacent smile before taking another drink of your coffee. "That's House's job."

"What about Cameron?" The elevator opens and the two of you step inside. Kutner pushes the floor button then leans against the wall as the doors close. "How are you going to make sure she's eating and sleeping?"

"We'll figure something out," you reply. The elevator doors open again and you look up.

"Oh, come on!" House whines as Cuddy steps on the elevator.

"No." Cuddy pushes the button to close to door then crosses her arms tightly across her chest.

"What do you mean _we_?" Kutner whispers, standing closer to you. He tilts his head to the side, staring at Cuddy's ass.

"Kutner!" you scold in a whisper, smacking his arm. You cringe when you realize how much pain hitting people with your sprained wrist causes. After a moment of narrowing your eyes at him, you glance over at Cuddy too and take a sip of your coffee. It's not your fault your boss is hot.

"I think someone stole her underwear again," Kutner whispers, grinning.

The coffee goes down the wrong pipe and you start coughing. You push your coffee cup into Kutner's hand then cover your mouth.

"Are you okay, Dr. Hadley?" Cuddy asks, spinning to face you. She tilts her head to the side and examines you carefully.

"She's just aspirating," Kutner explains, nudging your foot with his.

Your cheeks turn red and you cough for a few more moments before nodding your head. "I'm fine," you choke. Tears are stinging your eyes and you're not sure whether it's from coughing or trying not to laugh.

Cuddy nods slowly and glances over at Kutner. "House doesn't have a case today because he's making up clinic duty," she says slowly. "I want you, Taub, and Foreman helping him. Dr. Hadley, go help Dr. Cameron in the ER."

"What?" you sputter, your eyes going wide. You quickly compose yourself and nod. "Why aren't I helping in the clinic?"

"Because I want you in the ER. Do you have a problem with that?" Cuddy places a hand on her hip and raises an eyebrow at you.

"No." You shake your head and try to ignore the questioning look Kutner is giving you. The elevator door opens and you let out a subtle sigh of relief. "We'll go tell Taub and Foreman." You follow Kutner off the elevator and wait until the doors shut. "_As_pirating?" you ask, trying to distract yourself, "Seriously?"

A grin spreads across his face. "I made you laugh." He pauses. "Good luck in the ER. Couldn't you have stayed on the elevator?"

You know nothing will ever happen between you and Kutner, but you appreciate how distracting his attempts to charm you are. "Have fun doing all of House's clinic work," you reply. You'd rather do a full day of clinic work than be wherever Cameron is. "And I needed to get off for a moment so the _aspiration_ would stop getting to me." You grin with him despite the nervousness that's welling up inside of you.


	20. Chapter 20

**JB:** Glad you liked the Rebecca/Remy moment. I was kinda nervous about it. Here's the Cam part...and a brief flashback of the night before!  
**Melissa: **Aw! Don't limit yourself! Long reviews make me happy! Remy isn't allowed to physically harm Chase. I'm forbidding her from touching him. Cameron would not be happy if she beat him up. Rebecca doesn't really...interfere. Even without her, things would still be the same...only replace her with a dozen random girls from the bar. Yes, Foreman does exist. I just have no use for him. Lol. I don't like Foreman. He can stay in the background. Glad you liked Thirteen and Kutner checking out Cuddy. Lol. I randomly had that scene in my head for a long time but had nowhere to place it in my last fic. I tend to update in the evening, btw, if that limits how much you check. It's very rare I update in the late morning or midday. It's usually between evening and the middle of the night.  
**Lessthan13:** Poor ticked off bunny. He reminds me of Happy Bunny. "Your anger makes me happy." xP The apple line isn't mine. Every Nov, I memorize lines from the adopt a line NaNo boards and add them where I see fit. Scalpels...Razors...both get the job done. -fail-  
**Twampy:** Yay for confrontation...and Kutner! Kutner makes me happy to write. Got on the slut and robin thing in this chapt. Hopefully it clears things up a bit for you.  
**Ilive:** I'm glad you like Thirteen/Kutner friendship. They're fun to write. House? Serious? Ahaha. Glad you liked the Rebecca bit. I was preparing myself to be attacked since no one likes her. Bahahaha.  
**YDPP:** She's the landlord. She can't go away or Remy will have to find somewhere else to live. Lol. I never even thought of Robin. Sure...Kutner can be Robin! The robin was just a coincidence, I guess. I chose it bc it always seems cheery and is a sign of warm weather and stuff coming...and so he killed it. I'm glad you're moving past the elevator thing. But I'm still contemplating crashing it. But...I'm not telling you when. Aha. Yay for long reviews!  
**Wonderous: **It'll lead somewhere...eventually. If I keep going with it.  
**Eva:** Someone has to call her out. And glad you like Kutner!  
**WrongObsession:** Glad you like Rebecca. And happy you can feel the emotions of my characters and know why Thirteen is reacting how she is.  
**Destroyer:** Glad you're liking it! I never really thought of it as suspenseful and a mystery until you said something...but I guess it is! Thank you.  
**Shan:** Thanks! Well...when you're anti-social, being witty is the key to making people go away. Ha. Glad you like that I'm using Kutner. Remy needed a friend. Rebecca didn't seem like a good choice for that. xP Even if she does call Remy out on things. The meth incident was...really hot. -shiftyeyes-  
**Ilessthree:** You enjoy Kutner's distraction and not his presence? Aw. You make Kutner sad. xP And, of course you're important!  
**Greeen:** Poor Rebecca...(not really). Kutner is definitely harmless...which is a bit pathetic and sad. Heh.  
**Ina:** Rhetorical questions are killer. I always feel the need to answer. But...I'll keep quiet!

Over halfway to 500 reviews. Wooow. o_o

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

_"How did you get this number?" you whisper into Chase's house phone, your hands shaking so hard you can barely keep it to your ear. Breathing heavily, you glance toward the door and pray Chase comes back faster from picking up your food even though you're no longer hungry. Your stalker's voice is like a punch to the stomach and you're afraid you might be sick._

"_I don't think that's any of your business, Allison," the voice responds. It's raspy and almost robotic like a device to change it is being held between his mouth and the phone. "I have to say I'm surprised at how well you're handling things. I expected you crying in some dark corner."_

"_I'm going to call the police," you warn, narrowing your eyes. Your voice cracks against your will and betrays your terror. "What do you want from me?" The walls feel like they're closing in and the room spins in circles. You're forced to brace yourself against the couch in order to stay upright._

"_You won't call the police. You're too much of a coward. I want you to get what you deserve," the man responds. "I want to give you back all the misery you made me feel, you little bitch."_

"_Were you one of my patients?" you whisper in the phone, rubbing nervously at the back of your neck. "Listen, whatever treatment you were prescribed, I-"_

"_Try again," he responds. "I'm sure you treat all of your patients with the best intentions. Your pathetic sweetness is probably sickening. It usually is."_

"_Please, if you would just tell me what I ever did to you," you plead, tears welling up in your eyes. You grip the phone cord and twist it tightly around your fingers. "I can make it up to you."_

"_You can never make it up to me," he hisses. "What you did is unforgivable. Just know that I know where you are and you better watch your back. And if you tell your pretty-boy boyfriend, I won't hesitate to hurt him. Maybe I'll suture his lips up so he can't tell anyone what happened. Suture is the right word, isn't it, Doctor?"_

"_Stay away from my friends," you warn him protectively. Instead of immediately worrying for Chase, the first person you think of is Remy. "If you want to hurt someone, take it out on me. Don't touch them."_

"_You're afraid I'm going to hurt your girlfriend?" he asks and you can almost sense him smirking by the way his voice lifts up. "Well, as beautiful as she is, I think she'd put up quite a fight if I went after her. It wouldn't be worth it. She doesn't seem affected by me writing slut on the wall or leaving you dead robins either."_

_You freeze up. So he had been the one to write on the wall. "A dead-"_

"_The thing on the wall really was directed toward you, by the way," he cuts you off. "Speaking of being a slut, I haven't seen you since you had brown hair. I like the blond."_

_The phone clicks and his voice is replaced by the dial tone. Swallowing, you stop twisting the cord and twirl a blond lock of hair around your finger then stare at it. The door swings open and you slam the phone down, backing up into the end table. You nearly knock the table over and Chase stops to stare at you with raised eyebrows._

"_Are you okay?" he asks slowly, almost hesitantly like he doesn't know what to do if you're not. _

"_Yeah," you croak, nodding quickly. Your heart is beating a mile a minute and it feels like your airways have closed up, but he doesn't have to know that. You glance at the strands of hair in front of one of your eyes then look at Chase again. "Do you, um, wanna take a ride to Wal-Mart?" you ask quietly._

Splashing another handful of cold water against your face, you mentally beg the memories of last night to go away. You're exhausted mentally and physically and unsure how you're going to make it through the day. Coffee didn't help and when it dawned on you the man must have been watching Chase's apartment to know when he was coming home, you became too afraid to stay home. The amount of sleep you got last night had to be less than two hours. It wasn't that you were afraid of nightmares. You were afraid you'd cry for Remy and offend Chase. So you curled up on the couch and refused to close your eyes until nearly 4 A.M. when you couldn't be awake any longer. Chase had sat up with you for awhile but he fell asleep around 2.

With a heavy sigh, you turn off the water then lift your head and stare at yourself in the mirror. Brown hair now frames your pallid face, contrasting against your face and making you look sick. Your appearance appalls you and you're almost ashamed to leave the bathroom. If Cuddy saw you, she'd send you home for sure.

"Dr. Cameron, are you alright?" A nurse pokes her head in the bathroom and tilts her head to the side. "You've been gone for a few minutes now."

"Yeah," you answer quickly as you're snapped out of your thoughts. "I'm fine. I'll be there in a moment." You grab a paper towel and dry off a few water droplets on your face. The nurse leaves and you toss the paper towel in the trash before glancing at yourself one last time in the mirror. House is going to comment on your hair and you try to prepare yourself for the insults.

The ER is in mass panic with patients when you return. You think a train must have wrecked and all the passengers were sent straight to Princeton-Plainsboro. The distraction puts you at ease. Everything felt in slow motion until you got to work. Now you need to pretend you're fine and do you're job.

"Doctor Cameron, I think you might be needed over there," another ER doctor comments, pointing toward the door.

Expecting to see a patient, it would be a bit of an understatement to say you're stunned to see Remy. She looks at a loss with all the patients and no one she's specifically assigned to. The way she's trying to look confident but at the same time is nervously fiddling with her suspenders under her lab jacket is a bit pathetic. A doctor nearly runs into her with a stretcher and you realize she's just going to get in the way if you let her stand there. It's not fair that you have to deal with her even in your own department, but you remind yourself things could be worse. Working up your courage, you walk over to her and cross your arms. "Did House send you down here?"

"What?" Remy takes a step back and stares at you, looking startled. She bites down on her lower lip and glances out the door. "You colored you hair." She looks at you again with a barely noticeable smile.

"Did House send you here?" you ask a bit more slowly. Her smile is like a compliment and it makes your cheeks feel like they're burning when you don't want to feel anything at all. She shouldn't be here. She should be diagnosing a patient or being harassed by House. One of the last things you need right now is the reminder you screwed everything up with her.

"Cuddy sent me." She stops tugging at her suspenders and crosses her arms. "How can I help?"

Something about the tone of her voice tells her she wants to be here as much as you want her to be here. It's not annoyed, but more apprehensive. "You can't," you answer. "The ER requires the use of both hands," you explain, motioning toward her sprained wrist. Glancing up at her face, you study her for a millisecond. "And you're hung over." It's hard to feign disgust by her being hung over when you feel bad for her. Knowing it's probably your fault makes you chest hurt.

"Well, Cuddy apparently thinks there's something here for me to do," she snaps irritably. "Don't worry, because I asked to go to the clinic with House instead. She said she wanted me here, but if you want to talk to her, I'm perfectly fine with that."

It's a fact the ER can always use all the help it can get, even on days not as busy as this. "You can probably be of use over there," you state, pointing to a close curtain where the sound of a sobbing child can be heard. "Four year old girl; car accident. She has a broken leg and multiple lacerations. Dr. Reynolds was requesting a nurse to go hold her hand but all the nurses were busy."

"Are the parents okay?" she asks, staring over at the curtain. "Don't you have something medical for me to do?"

"The mother is in critical condition and we haven't been able to contact the father," you answer. "Go keep her calm so Dr. Reynolds can stitch up her cuts. When you're finished, find me and I'll get you something else to do." You bite down on the corner of your lip. "Do you want to have lunch together?" It seems like there's nothing you can do or say to show how sorry you are, but it's worth a try.

"I'm having lunch with Kutner," she answers, stripping her voice and expression of anything that could be considered emotion. "Chase probably wants to eat with you."

"I want to talk to you," you reply, tilting your head to the side. It's impossible to read her and tell what exactly she's feeling.

"I have a patient. Sorry." She stands there for a moment, staring past you before spinning around and walking away.

"I think being bitter about things is healthier than expressing yourself," House comments, walking up beside you. "Bitterness leads to spite, and spite leads to great accomplishments. Presumably. Or it leads to sprees. You know. Whichever works. Changing your hair color doesn't make it harder for me to find you, by the way."

For a moment, you freeze up over his comment about your hair, thinking he sounds unintentionally like the guy who hurt you. You quickly compose yourself and try to just shaking it off. Placing your hands on your hips, you turn to face him. "Aren't you supposed to be in the clinic?" you ask. "Because this looks a lot like the ER."

"You and Thirteen should go storm something," he replies. "Burn some things down. Or, you know, you could just be _bitter_."

"What do you want, House? Did it get boring annoying Wilson and Cuddy?" You pretend to sound sympathetic. "Did you get tired of them?"

"I could _never_ get tired of annoying Wilson and Cuddy," House answers, sounding shocked you even suggested such a thing. "Kutner and Taub are doing my clinic duty. Bothering you seemed better than watching them deal with mad cow flu."

"You mean swine flu?" you question slowly.

"Whatever." He limps forward and glances around the ER. "This place is a mess! Shouldn't you be working?"

"I was trying to." Exasperated with him already, you shake your head. "You should try working sometime. The day goes faster when you actually do your job."

"It takes skill to know I can be productive and choose not to do so. The day goes the same speed no matter what," he argues, glancing over at you. "There's no less than sixty seconds in a minute, sixty minutes in an hour, and twenty-four hours in a day no matter what it is you're doing." He pauses for a moment before nodding at you. "You look like crap."

"Thanks," you mutter sarcastically.

"I went to Thirteen's house last night," he says, glancing toward the curtain she's behind. "I think she _misses_ you." He smirks.

"Are you being serious or are you just being a sarcastic ass?" you ask, looking up at him. "Because now really isn't the time."

He exaggerates a sigh. "Why do people always tell me it's difficult to tell whether or not I'm being sarcastic?" he asks, throwing a hand in the air. "It shocks me. As a rule of thumb, I'm probably being sarcastic." He smirks and winks at you. "Unless I'm being one-hundred percent serious."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Adjusting your headband, you frown as he turns and starts walking away. "House?" you call after him in an irritated voice, "Did you really go to her apartment last night?" He doesn't answer you and you look around then huff and walk over to a patient.

"Dr. Cameron!" Eric, the boy who tried to fly, rushes up to you. "Archie got a new bike! He says it's a fire-truck, gay piece of crap!"

"Eric!" His mom rushes forward and grabs him by the back of the shirt. "Dr. Cameron, I am so sorry."

"It's alright," you reply with a smile, getting over the shock of seeing them back in the ER so soon after treating Eric once. "Is everything okay?"

"Archie needs stitches this time," the woman replies with a sigh. "He got a new bike and Eric loosened the handle bars."

"That's what he gets," Eric says proudly. "He got me hurt so I got him hurt. He even cried. It was funnier than the time my dad hit his thumb with a hammer!"

"Never have boys," the woman warns you. "Could you please stitch Archie's arm? He won't let the other doctor touch him. I hope it's not too much to ask."

"It's no problem." Placing your hand on Eric's head, you follow them to his brother.

-----

Lunch time approaches quickly. Working with Remy wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. All you had to do was repeatedly find things for her to do. It was obvious the ER was wearing her down and once you saw her sneaking a few aspirin, but you didn't say anything about it. As soon as the clock strikes 12:15, you sigh in relief and make sure no one needs your immediate attention.

Remy catches your eye as you're about to walk out the door. She's sitting on a chair over in the corner, looking irritated as she stares down at a chart in her hand. Her head is rested against her injured arm and she's tapping a pen against the papers. Half way out the door, you get worried about her and walk back in. "What's wrong?" you ask. You approach her then kneel down beside her, glancing at the chart she's staring at. There's barely anything written down.

"No one wrote anything," she mutters. "Then I got handed the papers. I was standing right there listening, but…" Her voice trails off and she drops the pen then pinches the bridge of her nose as she stares at the blank spaces.

"It's not you're problem," you assure her. She tenses as you pat her leg and you stand up again. "You're tired. Take a break and don't worry about it." You take the chart from her. "Go get something to eat with Kutner." Even as much as you want to avoid her, it's hard not to care about her. Letting her just sit there would have been unfair, especially since this whole mess is your fault. "Come on." You hold your hand down for her to take.

"I'll get something later." She ignores your hand and grabs the chart back then turns so she's sitting sideways on the chair and can rest her head against the wall.

"Okay." You turn to walk away then glance back at her. "I'm sorry." It feels like you can't express that enough to her. The only thing that lets you know she even pays attention to your words is that she tenses and clenches her jaw. Feeling guilty, you drag yourself out of the ER and toward the cafeteria.

-----

"Have you seen Thirteen?" Kutner asks, standing behind you as you're in line to pay for your food. "I mean, of course you've seen her since she's in the ER. Do you know where she is though?"

"She was working on a chart," you answer, glancing back at him. Placing your things on the counter in front of the cash register, you pull your money out of your pocket and pay for the sandwich and bottle of sprite. "You probably shouldn't wait for her."

"Wait for her?" Kutner asks, raising his eyebrows. "House just wanted me to ask her if she's supposed to be in the ER all day because we got a case."

"Oh." You take your change and put it in your pocket then grab your food and take a step back so Kutner can pay. "I thought the two of you were eating together."

"She wanted to eat with me?" he asks with a grin, clearly oblivious to what you're talking about.

Forcing a smile, you nod your head. "You know what, take this to her in the ER," you say, offering him the food you got for yourself. "Just tell her you bought it."

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head to the side. He pays for his food then moves out of line so the next person can pay. "Is she okay?"

"She's fine," you assure him. You hope that she'll not only decide to eat lunch but will enjoy Kutner's company. "It'll just be a nice gesture. I'll get myself something else."

"Are you sure?" he asks, slowly taking your sandwich and soda. "I can always-"

"Go convince Thirteen to take a break and eat something." You see Chase out of the corner of your eye and quickly make your escape before he can see you too.

-----

"You wouldn't happen to have anymore celery, would you?" you ask, walking into Wilson's office. His office suddenly feels like your sanctuary. It's not busy and distracting like the ER, but it still manages to radiate a feeling of safety. "Or maybe a dollar for the vending machine?" You force a smile. You realize you need to eat something but you have twenty-two cents in your pocket.

"I had a feeling you'd be back," Wilson replies. He picks up two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and two bottles of apple juice from beside his desk. "I brought for two today."

"That was nice." Your smile isn't forced anymore. "Thanks." You shut the door behind you then walk over to his desk and take a seat on one of the two empty chairs.

"Your hair is brown again," he points out, opening his bottle of juice.

"Mhm," you answer with a small smile and pick up one of the sandwiches. Lunch with him might become a regular thing, you decide. "How is your day going?" You glance at him questioningly before taking a bite of your sandwich.

"House has been in and out of here trying to avoid the clinic," Wilson replies, shrugging. "He has a case now though."

"So I've heard." You nod. "I ran into Kutner in the cafeteria." You hesitate and stare at your sandwich. "He was looking for Thirteen."

"House said they went on a date," he says, not taking his eyes off of you. "Cuddy was in here lecturing House earlier. She mentioned she thinks they were staring at her in the elevator this morning because they were talking about aspirating or something. I think House is making her paranoid."

"That doesn't even make sense. What does aspirating have to do with Cuddy?" It makes you a bit jealous to realize Kutner gets to spend time with Remy and you don't. You had your chance in the ER but didn't do anything with it. Maybe you're more than a little jealous. Putting your sandwich down, you grab your drink and sigh.

"Are you okay?" he asks, leaning back against his chair.

It takes a moment to work up the courage before speaking. "I like her," you admit quietly. It feels real now that you admit it out loud. "Really like her." Swirling the juice around in the bottle, you pretend to be interested in it instead of looking at him.

"Thirteen?" he asks in a shocked voice. "You like Thirteen?"

"Yeah," you mutter with a nod and suddenly feel extremely small. You put the bottle back down on the desk then lean back against the chair and cross your arms tightly across your chest. "A lot," you admit, glancing toward the door. "I thought…" You pause. "I thought she might like me too, but I messed it all up by moving in with Chase. I hurt her."

"Why _did_ you move in with Chase?" he asks, getting to his feet. He walks around his desk and sits down on the chair next to you.

Exhausted, you place your elbow on the arm of the chair and rest your head against your hand. "He didn't give me much of a choice. I got afraid he'd leave me." Chase makes you feel trapped and uncomfortable, but he's the safe choice.

"But if you like Thir-"

"But why would she _really_ like me back?" you ask, hitting your hands down on your lap. Tears well up in your eyes and you know it's mainly because you're so tired you can barely keep your eyes open. "What if she just feels bad for me? I'm dirty. I-I convinced some guy to hurt me. I can't even remember it, you know? I have dreams but I forget them as soon as I wake up. I just know that-that I'm crying her name and she's always there. But what if she doesn't _really _want to be there?"

"Cameron." He puts a hand on your back. "You're not dirty. Whatever happened with that guy isn't your fault, do you understand that? Even if she does reject you, which I somehow doubt she will, it won't be because of that. House says he thinks she's just as upset as you are."

Leaning forward, you press the palms of your hands to your eyes. "It _is_ my fault," you whisper, almost forgetting about Remy for the moment. "I did something awful to him."

"_I want to give you back all the misery you made me feel, you little bitch," the man spits through the phone._

"Do you want me to page Thirteen?" Wilson asks. "This is _not_ your fault." He grips your wrist and presses two of his fingers against your racing pulse.

"It _is_ my fault." You wipe at your eyes, shaking slightly. Breathing through your mouth, you attempt to lean back. "I'm getting lightheaded." Your voice wavers and the room begins to spin.

"Lean forward." Wilson moves his hand from your back to the back of your neck to stop you from sitting up. "Have you talked to anyone about all of this, Cameron?"

"No." You try to swallow but your saliva feels too thick to go down your constricting throat. "I want- I want t-to talk to Thirteen, but I don't- I don't want her to know it's my fault," you choke, squeezing your eyes shut to keep your tears at bay. "I want her to like me. I already screwed things up. I think- I think I might be falling in love with her, and it hurts. It _hurts_."

He helps you to your feet and walks you across the room. Tears blurring your vision, you're not sure where you're being led until you're at his couch. You slowly sink down against the cushions and hug your knees up to your chest. "Who are you paging?" you whisper, watching him pull out his pager.

He stares at you a moment then glances down at the pager. "Thirteen." The way he says her name makes everything seem so simple. It's like all he has to do is page her number and it'll all be okay. Only, you know it won't be.


	21. Chapter 21

**Kirei:** Aw. One of my comments made you hesitant? How very sad. I'm glad you really like it though!  
**WrongObsession:** I think my Wilson is gathering a fanclub now. Lol. I'd be best friends with everyone but Foreman. House and I would play evil tricks on him. It'd be fun. Remy and Cameron could be together 'cause I'd marry Chase. xD If the guy tried something with Remy, she, Kutner, and Taub could use her suspenders and reenact Frosty.  
**Melissa:** See...you'd all be happy if she hurt Chase...then pissed cause Cameron would be mad at her. It's a lose/lose situation. xD Glad you like the Cam/Wilson friendship. 30 updates a day might be a /little/ overwhelming. Just a little though!  
**Jungle:** Well, I can tell you she didn't intentionally do anything.  
**Eva:** I'd have to consult my imaginary lawyers before answering that question. -innocentlook-  
**SMF:** Glad you like it. This chapter was a little late...hopefully it didn't take me too long though!  
**Shan:** Aw. Thank you. Glad you're enjoying it!  
**Kj:** Well...you got 2 of those right. Haha.  
**Enigmatic:** Patience is so overrated. Glad you're enjoying it!  
**JB:** Good that Chase is a bit better. Batman will appear next chapter.  
**Bigblusky:** You all just really want me to torture people, don't you? Lol.  
**YDPP:** Yes, but she hasn't said it to her. She said it to Wilson. But er...yay Wilson! And yay that I can make the guy a scary freak. I love villains. Don't worry...I need new adjectives too. I'm so redundant.  
**Ilessthree:** Is it possible to be too happy to ever be sad? You'll find out who he is...eventually. Bahahaha.  
**Ina:** I updated a little slower this time. I'm not giving out any more info or telling you if you're right/wrong. Bahahaha.  
**Setyourself:** -revives you- No dying! I really wanted to make 13 ignore the page just 'cause you all are worried she will. xD  
**Roronoa:** I think drama goddess might be a bit of an overstatement. Heh. It's okay. I yell at the computer all the time. I rolled my eyes at it yesterday and got in trouble for being 'rude'. How is it possible to be rude to the computer?! Bahaha. An irrational love for Wilson. That's great!  
**Amazon: **Glad you enjoyed them checking out Cuddy and then pwning Chase. Yay for Rebecca coming across as not-exactly-hateable. Maybe if you smack their heads together, their lips will touch. -wink- And yeah...Cam's pretty scared. What's your guess? You could be right. I feel like I'm creating Wilson-fangirls.  
**Ilive:** That's what Wilson's there for...somewhat. Glad I'm unpredictable. xD  
**Twampy:** Is it bad I like making people cry? -win- Yeah...Chase is pretty harmless compared to the other guy. Cause at least he wouldn't hurt Cameron. Woo for Wilson-fangirls!  
**Lessthan13:** The whole "dun dun dun" makes me feel like my fic needs theme music. I actually have songs I listen to during all the different scenes. If only there was a way to make them play while you're all reading! Second person is hard to read review-wise! I think I read your review fives times. Lol. I'm going to keep adding elevator moments just to make you worry. Ha.  
**Nameless: **Oh jeez...How to reply to all of that!!! It's so long and wonderful!!! **18:** House's antics are never very surprising. Lol. Pssh. Kutner will heal and get over it. Plus...Cameron got to fix him up...even if she was unhappy about it. Who wouldn't want Cameron to fix them up?! **19:** I think she'd rather be in Rebecca's room...but she'd probably be okay with taking Rebecca to her room too. Fail/fail situation there. I think the point is not thinking. Cause thinking would cause hurt. House's prying not mending things reminds me of the quote:  
_Wilson****:_ Have you ever considered channeling your powers to, I don't know, bring peace to the mid-east?_  
__House: _I couldn't do that.  
_Wilson:_ But if they ever got it, you could screw it up.  
_House:_ Yeah. That's more where my powers lie.  
Poor Cuddy just needs to wear looser clothes...or...not. Teehee. **20:** Have any idea who the guy is? Glad he's coming across as scary. Villains are the best to write. They're fun. She changed her hair color because he said he liked it as blond. Now I'm hungry for peanut butter and celery...and I don't even like celery.  
Ooh. So now I need theme music and a commentator. Ha.  
**From:** Thank you! Glad you're enjoying it!

...I think I spent more time replying to reviews than I did writing the chapter! =DDD -happy- Anyway.  
1. Just so y'all know...I have a general idea, but I'm kinda just going chapt by chapt. It's a bit difficult for some chapts where I don't have much planned. So if anyone has any ideas, throw 'em at me!  
2. I got mixed feelings about the end of the chapt. I let a few people read it. Some liked it others said change it. So...sorry if it's not great. Nvm if you like it!  
3. Wonderousplaceforanecho helped me a lot with this chapter.  
4. Do any of you RP? I'm on the prowl for a Cam/Remy RP...and I'm willing to play either.  
5. I feel like I have something else to say...but I don't remember. Hope I didn't miss replying to anyone. There was a lot of reviews! Oh...and I totally wanna hear your ideas about who you think the guy stalking Cameron could be. Enjoy!

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**Thirteen's POV:**

You're settled on the floor outside the ER when your pager goes off. Kutner is sitting beside you and Taub managed to find you with his lunch and is sitting in front of you. "That's weird," you mumble as you take a bite of your sandwich and look at the number the pages you. "What would Wilson want?"

"Maybe House stole his pager," Taub suggests as he and Kutner both lean to look at your pager.

"He even wants you in his office," Kutner points out. He leans back against the wall again. "Are you going to see what he wants?'

You nod and take a drink of soda. "If Wilson is paging me, it's probably important. What would he want with me if it wasn't?" Your sandwich is almost gone so you don't worry about eating the rest, instead tossing it in the trash next to the three of you. "You staying here?"

"We'll come too," Kutner says, getting to his feet. He shoves the rest of his sandwich in his mouth then brushes his hands against his pants.

You stand up and take another drink before twisting the cap back on the bottle. "At least I can escape the ER." After Taub gets up, the three of you head down the hall and toward the elevator. "How was the clinic?"

"I had twenty people who thought they had swine flu," Kutner answers. "And one who actually did. What's wrong with the ER?"

"Same thing that's wrong with the clinic," you lie, approaching the elevator. You push the button then take a step back. "I'd just rather have a case."

"She's avoiding Cameron," Taub states, staring at the numbers above the elevator as they light up. "Not easy to do in the ER."

"So House has a case?" you change the subject before they can get further into the matter.

"He only wants you if Cameron doesn't need you," Kutner answers. "Though he could have been being sarcastic."

It figures that House would choose to leave you in the ER just to make your day suck more than it already does. The doors open again and you walk out of the elevator and toward Wilson's office, followed by Kutner and Taub. "I'll see you later," you tell them as you approach the door.

Touching the doorknob, something tells you to just go back to work in the ER. You have no clue what Wilson could want with you unless your genetics plan on adding cancer to the Huntington's. It would be so much easier to pretend you never got the page and continue your day as normal. From the corner of your eye, you see Kutner and Taub walk toward House's office and you envy them. You should be on that case and dealing with House too.

With an inaudible sigh, you turn the knob and glance inside. You should have known Cameron was the reason you're needed. It seems like she's the center of your life these days. It's hard to be angry at that when it makes you feel like you have something to live for. Even though your head is telling you to run in the opposite direction, you stand frozen in the door way.

She can't breathe; that much is obvious. She's leaning forward with her hands cupped over her nose and mouth, visibly trembling. Her hair is making a curtain around her face and it's hard to tell if she's crying or not. Seeing her like this makes your heartbreak go from acute the chronic. It goes from trying to stop the hurt to attempting to manage the pain.

Wilson is kneeling in front of her but stands when he notices you. He holds his hands up slightly and takes a few steps back.

Your eyes widen and you stare at him like he's crazy for expecting you to step in and comfort her, like it's somehow your job now. _What the hell did you get yourself into, Remy? _What's worse is that you want to go in there and make everything better for her. Something tells you if you run out now, he'll page Cuddy and you'll get a lecture about how you should have just let her deal with Cameron. "I got it," you say, taking a few steps in the room. You feel selfish for avoiding her, for getting her so far then just allowing her to shrink back into herself.

"She didn't ask me to page you," he says as if it'll win her some bonus points or something. He turns to his desk and gathers his lunch then inches past you and out the door, avoiding your gaze.

Holding your breath, you stare at her and try to think professionally. Risking vulnerability and getting hurt isn't something you want to repeat. Being a doctor is easier than being a friend. It doesn't work though because the professional part of you tells you to send her to psych. Letting out air through your mouth, you walk over and kneel down in front of her, placing your soda bottle on the floor. "We're going to talk," you try to assure her, gently pulling her legs from the couch so her feet are on the floor. You gingerly pry her hands away from her tearstained face and lower them to her knees then place your palms flat on hers.

"Tell me what to do," she pleads in a whisper, gripping your good hand. Her breaths are still ragged and she pulls her hand out from under your hurt one to wipe at the tears on her face. She opens her eyes but you avoid her gaze. "I want to make it up to you," she mumbles, glancing down at the floor.

Sighing, you let go of her hand and rest your head against your hand as you place your elbow on her knee. Out of the very few people who have ever apologized to you for something, none of them sounded as sincere as she does. "You can make it up to me by taking care of yourself, okay?" You straighten up and are about to stand but realize you can't just leave her sitting here in tears. "Did you sleep last night?" You're already sure of the answer before you even ask the question.

She shrugs and wrings her hands together. "He called me," she chokes and stops rubbing her hands to grip the sleeves of your lab coat. "He scared me," she whispers like she doesn't want to admit it to herself. Her grip on you tightens and she clamps her eyes shut. "He - He…"

"You can tell me," you reassure her when her voice trails off. You carefully break away from her tight hold on your sleeve and hesitantly tuck a strand of hair behind her ear when she doesn't answer. "Let me page Chase and have him take you home. You can't work like-"

"Take me back to your house." She grips your hand and holds it against the side of her face. "I made a mistake, Remy. I messed up," she mumbles, her voice breaking and utterly honest. She sounds like she's at a point where she has nothing left to lose and the exhaustion has already numbed her to where the rejection won't kill her.

Her skin is slightly warm from the panic attack and you caress her cheek to brush away a few tears with your thumb. "Look at me," you demand softly then bite down on your lip and wait for her to open her eyes. Her gaze is painful and intense, full of terror and need. _You can't come home with me, Allison. _"How are you going to tell Chase this?"

She sobs and lets go of your hand to rub exhaustedly at her face. Shrugging, she seems to sink back into herself to avoid being overwhelmed.

"We'll figure it out." _Just take things one step at a time. _You're overwhelmed too. "Let's get you calm first." You need to get yourself calm too. On the outside you might appear cool and collected but you have no idea what the hell you're doing. _One step at a time. What's the first step? _Even though there's some differences, you have the uncertainty you had back when she was raped. You don't know what's okay and are trying to just play things by ear.

Cameron scoots forward on the couch so her legs are on either side of you and rests her head against your shoulder. "I'm so tired." She turns her head and hides her face against your lab coat as she struggles to match her breaths with yours.

You feel frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Logic is telling you to push her away and go back to work. Last month, the two of you would have never even found yourselves in the same room. Now, she's clinging to you for safety and you enjoy it. "Don't fall asleep on me. Wilson might need his office." You run your fingers through her hair then slide your arms around her. It frightens you how thin she is. "Did you eat lunch?"

"I was eating with Wilson." Stifling a yawn, she seems to be ignoring your warning not to sleep. "I had a sandwich."

You crane your neck to look at his desk. "Allison, you had two bites of a sandwich." Patting her back, you rest your head against hers. "You know I'm going to make you eat the rest of that before you leave this office, right?"

"Thank you." Her grip on you tightens. "Chase wouldn't make me."

A sigh of warm air against your neck gives you goose-bumps and she relaxes into your grip on her. "What did the guy say on the phone to you?" you ask now that she's relatively calm. "Did he threaten you?" You try to keep your voice calm, but the thought of him threatening her makes you furious. Trying to distract yourself from the anger, you dig your nails into your palm.

"Sort of," she mumbles, shrugging. Sniffling, she pauses for a moment and loosens her hold on you only to retighten it as though human contact will keep her grounded. "He likes my hair blonde. He said he - I want to talk about it later, okay?"

"Tell me now," you reply. "You're falling asleep." Pulling back, you force her to sit up instead of cuddle with you. Missing the warmth of her embrace, you have to tell yourself she needs to talk to you before she drifts off. "Why did he call?"

Rubbing her eyes with her arm, she's silent for a moment. "He wants me to get what I deserve." Her voice wavers and she hesitates. "He said I did something to hurt him. It's all my fault."

This guy did have the right person, didn't he? Cameron is the last person you can imagine causing pain to anyone, minus hurting your feelings. "This guy is sick," you tell her, rubbing a hand up and down her arm. "It's not your fault. Did you tell Chase?"

"He said he'd suture his lips if I told," she mutters, shaking her head. "I don't want Chase to get hurt."

As much as you wish Chase had his lips sutured, that's not the way you want it to happen. "He didn't tell you not to tell me?" you question. She looks unfocused so you place her hands on her cheeks and gently force her to look at you.

"He said you'd put up a fight if he tried to hurt you." She holds eye contact with you for a second before rubbing at her face again. "I guess you're scarier than Chase could ever be."

"Good to know I'm more badass than Chase," you comment, trying to make her feel a little better. She looks awful and you miss her bubbliness, as annoying as it could be sometimes. "Is this what you got so worked up over?"

"Hm?" She glances at you and her eyes flutter open and closed for a moment before she can convince herself to keep them open.

"Is the guy calling why you were crying?" you ask, realizing she really just needs to go home. Your knees are beginning to hurt so you get to your feet. "You need to eat." You walk over to the desk and grab her sandwich then walk back over to her and hand it to her.

"He's not why I was crying." She takes her sandwich and stares at it for a moment, poking at the bread before hesitantly ripping off a small piece and putting it in her mouth.

"What happened?" Licking off some peanut butter that got on your thumb, you take a seat beside her and curl one leg up under you. You lean over and grab your soda then uncap it and take a small drink. "If you want to tell me anything, you can." You definitely have no room to judge anyone, if that's what she's worried about.

"Not this," she whispers before tearing off a slightly bigger piece of her sandwich and eating it. She turns to face you and leans sideways against the back of the couch. "You're already mad at me."

"Do I look mad at you?" you ask. Hurt, yes. Angry, no. "You don't have to talk. Just finish eating."

The door opens and Wilson glances inside before walking in. "I'm not interrupting, am I?" He lets his hand hover on the doorknob, ready to turn and walk back out of his office again.

"No." You stand up and rest your hand on Cameron's shoulder, glancing down at her as she rests her head against your arm. "Could you ask Cuddy to tell Chase I'm taking Cameron home?" You just want to get her home and in bed. If Chase says anything to Cuddy about it, she'll deal with it better than either you or Cameron could at the moment. Using Wilson as a messenger makes you feel a bit guilty, but getting Cameron home is more important than dealing with Chase at the moment and you hope Cuddy will be sympathetic.

Wilson looks hesitant but nods anyway. "Yeah." He lets go of the door and walks over to his desk then begins shifting through a few files. "Should I bring lunch for two again tomorrow?" he asks, glancing over at Cameron.

"We're taking a vacation day," you state before Cameron can answer him. You both need a day to just relax and get everything sorted out.

"Day after that though," Cameron tells him, nodding slightly. She finishes her sandwich and brushes her hands against her pants before shakily getting to her feet. Closing her eyes, she brings her hand to her forehead and slowly moves to sit back down again.

"Hey." You wrap your arms around her to support her and keep her upright. _That's what happens when you don't eat or sleep, Allison. You get dizzy. _You plan on making a decent sized meal for her while she's sleeping. Letting her lean against you for support, you lead her out of Wilson's office. Even though you're not sure if taking her home is the greatest idea, you can't help but feel relieved she's yours again. You've never liked someone enough to risk being hurt for a second time before. Now you just wish she'd feel the same about you. For a moment, you feel awful about thinking about yourself in a time like this. It's only rational and human nature that self-preservation with sneak up on you though. It's also human nature to be compassionate. Compassion is a quality that you're very selective who you direct it at, but you feel like you can't help but be protective of Cameron.


	22. Chapter 22

I have very little to say up here today.

1. The rest of this fic will go unbeta-ed. One of my betas jumped ship due to length and I didn't want to inconvenience the other one. I made them feel under-appreciated, and I am very sorry. I apologize for any mistakes to come because no one will be editing this fic. They did an amazing job beta-ing my things and I really am very thankful for them.  
2. I apologize for the length of this fic. I'm used to my fav LOST fics being 200,000+ words. One of my very favorites is 87 chapters. I will continue this fic until I feel like ending it, but feel free to jump ship if you feel it's getting too long. I didn't realize writing for a new genre came with different rules. I should have looked into what I was getting myself into before I started writing House.  
3. I'm sorry for the amount of drama in my fics. I like drama/angst. I'm not very good at writing fluff...and I really just don't enjoy it. So feel free to jump ship if you don't like the amount of drama or if my characters get too ooc. [Just a warning...I tend to struggle a lot with ooc-ness.]  
4: I apologize to all of you for making you feel under-appreciated and obligated to review. I was trying to be nice by making conversation and in no way wanted to make any of you feel like you must review. My motive was to let you know that I enjoyed your comments, but I guess that didn't come across the way I wanted it to. I enjoyed getting to know you and chatting with you. Thank you so so so much for taking time to read and review my writing. I won't be continuing conversations up here because I don't want to make you feel like you must read/review.

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**Cameron's POV:**

Cringing, you wipe at the thick trail of dog saliva on your cheek and roll over to bury your face in a pillow. "Go back to bed," you mumble as the ball of fur clambers over you and shoves its nose between the pillow and your face. The warm breaths against your face tickle and you finally crack a smile, rolling over slightly and gathering Batman in your arms. "Can I help you?" you question, slowly opening your eyes.

Batman stares at you for a moment as you speak then squirms away from your grasp and begins running in circles on the bed. His legs get tangled in the blankets and he falls over then quickly scrambles to get back up.

"Come here, Silly." You pull him over to you and nuzzle your face against his, placing a kiss on his muzzle. "Where's Remy at?" You stretch out on your stomach then prop yourself up on your arms, glancing around the bedroom. All of yesterday and last night is a blur. You fell asleep in the car and woke up on the couch then ate dinner and went to bed. Neither of you spoke much because you had been exhausted and rather out of it. Both of you had been relatively calm. There was obvious tension, but you spent the moments you were awake getting used to each other outside of the hospital again. Needless to say, you were a bit more awake now.

The clock says it's nearly noon and you consider just staying there for another hour, or maybe all day. Remy's bed is warm and cozy and everything smells like her. Finally feeling like you're able to breathe easy, you'd have no desire to be anywhere else if Remy was in bed too. "Let's go find her," you tell Batman.

Batman trots to the bottom of the bed and stares at the floor. He lowers his front and keeps his back end in the air then stands and does the same thing at a different spot. Whimpering, he glances back at you.

"What? Remy put you on the bed so you couldn't get down and bug her?" you chuckle, getting up. You tug down the t-shirt you're wearing and absentmindedly scratch your arm then lift him up and place him on the floor.

Wagging his stubby, little tail, Batman runs in a circle then bounds toward the living room.

You run your fingers through your hair to push it out of your face and follow him. Seeing Remy asleep on the couch makes you quirk your eyebrows in amusement. She's lying on her stomach, clinging tightly to an X-box controller. You're not sure what she was playing, but her character is repeatedly running into a wall. "Shhh," you tell Batman as he jumps up on the couch by her feet.

You approach her and carefully remove the control from her hand then toss it on the coffee table. She looks tired and you bite down on your lip as you watch her in guilt. She's probably been getting as much sleep as you have, but she seems better at hiding the exhaustion. Now that you're getting a good look at her, you notice the circles under her eyes and that you're not the only one who's lost a few pounds. The way she's using your hoodie (which is technically hers) and her arm for a pillow doesn't even look at all comfortable. "Rem," you say softly, rubbing her arm. "Sit up for a second."

"Why?" she mumbles, rubbing at her face. Not waiting for an answer, she stretches and yawns then slowly sits up and slouches sideways against the back of the couch. With a half-asleep groan, she buries her face against the couch cushion and curls an arm up over her head.

You sit down and place the hoodie on your lap then reach over and side your arm between her and the couch. "Lay back down," you instruct, easing her back down.

She freezes up and opens her eyes, moving to slowly sit back up. "I'm awake," she murmurs, stifling another yawn.

"No, you're not," you answer, watching her. "Go back to sleep for awhile. It's fine."

She sits there stubbornly, crossing her arms and leaning against the couch cushion. "I'm _up,_" she assures you in a groggy voice.

"Don't be like that," you answer, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips. "Go back to sleep."

She hesitates then slowly lowers herself back down and curls up on her side so she's facing you, shifting until she finds a comfortable spot on your lap to rest her head before drifting off again.

Tilting your head back against the couch cushion and staring at the ceiling through half-closed eyes, you drape an arm over her and delicately rub small circles between her shoulder blades. Being with her makes you feel so much safer than being with Chase does, even while she's sleeping and seems rather fragile. You've never been attracted to another woman before, but you're finding yourself having deeper feelings for her than you did even for House or Chase. It scares you to think you're falling for her. Even worse is that you're afraid to tell her because she probably doesn't feel the same. You inhale deeply through your nose then puff out your cheeks as you exhale through your mouth, deciding you don't want to think about it right now.

The 'oof' sound the videogame is making every time the character hits the wall is getting tedious to listen to. You glance at the TV then lean forward and grab the controller from the table. It takes a moment for you to learn which button does what, but soon you're passing through obstacles and fighting off bad guys with increasing skill.

-----

"Ha!" you announce thirty minutes later after you beat yet another level. Batman perks up at your sudden exclamation and wags his tail furiously, lifting his head from where it was resting on Remy's leg. "See that, Batman?" you ask with a grin, nodding toward the TV.

"What are you doing?" Remy mumbles, her voice muffled by her arm. Stretching out her legs, she rolls onto her back and drapes her arm over her eyes.

"Playing your game." You toss the controller beside you on the couch and look down at her. "Comfortable?" you ask with an amused smile, resting a hand on her stomach.

She presses her lips together and breathes a small chuckle then nods once. "Very." Lifting her arm away from her face, she turns her head to glance at the TV then lowers her hand and rests it overtop of yours. "What time is it?" she asks, absently playing with your fingers.

You lean forward a bit and squint your eyes to look at the numbers on the DVD player. "About twelve-thirty," you answer then lean back again and brush her hair away from her face. "I'm getting hungry." It feels good to be craving food instead of the thought of eating making you feel sick.

"Wilson thought we should go to his house for lunch around one-thirty," she says, stifling a yawn. "He called earlier to see how you were and offered to cook. I thought you might like that."

Whatever little friendship you've developed with Wilson warms your heart. He's a great guy and you wonder why you never bothered to hang out with him before. "We should probably get ready," you muse, stroking Remy's hair a few times.

"You can borrow some of my clothes," Remy says, making no move to get up. Instead, she sighs and relaxes further against you. "If we don't get your clothes back from Chase, we can go back to your apartment."

"Well, I have a sweater on your floor," you state, tilting your head to the side. "Why is my sweater on your floor?"

"Batman was chewing on it," she answers and frowns. "I tried to get it back, but he wouldn't let me. He doesn't like me."

"Maybe you should be nicer to him," you tease, twisting a lock of her hair around your finger. "You do call him 'Dog', after all."

"Bringing him home wasn't nice enough?" she huffs, lacing your fingers. "He's manipulating you. He acts sweet when you're around, then he's a jerk when you leave."

"He's a dog, Rem," you chuckle, shaking your head. You decide you enjoy calling her that.

"Which is why I call him that, _Allie_." She rolls her eyes, pursing her lips together to suppress a smile.

Your stomach flutters and your cheeks feel rather warm. "Come on, Lazy, get up. We need to get dressed." You try to push her into a sitting position but she becomes dead weight and refuses to move.

"What if I don't want to get up?" she asks with a brightened countenance, cuddling against you.

"Well, you don't _have_ to get up," you inform her, smirking and giving her a challenging look. "I already learned how to make you move though." You think back to Christmas when you woke her up.

"Yeah?" she asks, arching a brow. "Go ahead and make me move."

"If you're sure," you answer in a sing-song voice. You grin and tickle her side.

"Allison!" She gasps and grabs your hand, going rigid. "That's cheating," she huffs, narrowing her eyes.

"No," you argue playfully. "This would be cheating. You only have one working hand." You start tickling her with your other hand, chuckling as she laughs and squirms to sit up. Batman leaps off the couch and begins howling at the two of you.

"Stop!" she pleads, trying to push you away. She stops and squeezes her eyes shut while trying to prevent herself from laughing. Her strength lasts about two seconds before she cracks up again and finally manages to sit up. "Allison! I'm up! Allison Cameron, stop!" she begs, gasping with laughter between each word.

You stop tickling and grin at her as she struggles to catch her breath. "You asked for it," you remind her, leaning your head back against the couch.

"That was before I realized how mean you were!" she exclaims with a wide grin, rubbing at her sides. She collapses back down across your lap and covers her sides. "We can get up in a minute."

-----

"Did you _have_ to bring the dog?" Remy asks as the two of you walk up to Wilson's door. "He would have been fine at home."

"He would have been lonely," you reply, clutching Batman protectively to your chest. He squirms excitedly in your arms, wildly sniffing at the air. "He won't get hungry now."

"That's what his dog food is for." She knocks on the door then takes a step back and crosses her arms loosely across her chest. "You'll make him sick if you feed him people food."

"I'm just going to give him some." You grin at Batman then glance up at Wilson opens the door. He looks humorous wearing an apron and an oven mitt and you bite down on your lip to keep from giggling. Remy snorts and you nudge her ankle with your foot. "Thanks for inviting us over," you tell him.

"It's better than eating lunch with House." He smiles at the two of you and steps aside so you can come in. "I'm making lasagna."

"It smells great," you comment, sniffing the air as you walk inside. The smell of food causes your stomach to growl. You lean down and place Batman on the floor then shut the door behind you.

"Batman, right?" Wilson asks, kneeling to pet the dog.

"Yeah." Remy nods and glances around a bit awkwardly. She slides her injured hand in the pocket of her hoodie and hooks the thumb on her good hand through her belt loop. A sigh escapes her lips and she glances at the ground, rocking back on her heels.

You link arms with her and follow Wilson into the kitchen once he stops petting Batman. "I hope you didn't have to reschedule any of your patients to make lunch for us," you comment.

"Just one," Wilson replies. "He was fine with it though. How is your vacation day?"

"I hope the ER isn't missing me too much," you answer, feeling a bit guilty about taking a day off. You planned on taking a few days off to visit your parents though and by the looks of things, that isn't going to happen. You make a mental note to call them and tell them you won't be able to make it. A long drive wouldn't exactly be the most comfortable with some guy after you. "I haven't heard from House all day though."

"Not hearing from House is always a plus," Remy adds, glancing down at Batman as he runs in circles around her feet. She smirks and nudges him teasingly with her toes, dragging her foot back quickly when he tries to bite her shoe.

"I'm shocked he hasn't shown up here." Wilson walks over to the oven and opens it. He stares inside for a moment before adjusting his oven mitt and pulling out the lasagna.

"You told him we were coming?" Remy asks, glancing toward the door. "If you told him we were going to be here, it's probably only a matter of time."

"He asked what we were eating for lunch and I told him I was coming home for lunch," Wilson replies. "I didn't tell him I was inviting you two."

"He'll figure it out eventually," you remind them, eyeing the food. It looks delicious and your mouth begins to water. "He figures everything out."

"Did you just…?" Remy's voice trails off and she points slightly toward the window, tilting her head to the side. She draws her brows together and unlinks arms with you to scratch her cheek.

You and Wilson both look toward the open window. "I don't see anything," you comment, glancing over at her and raising your eyebrows.

"Huh," she murmurs, resting her arm on your shoulder. "I think I'm still tired." She shakes her head and turns to face Wilson as he gets three plates down from the cupboard.

There's a crash outside and the three of you jump and rush toward the window. You and Remy get there first and lift it open then peer down at Kutner lying on a bush and Taub kneeling next to him with a guilty look on his face.

"What are you doing?" Remy hisses at them, crossing her arms tightly across her chest.

"House sent us to-," Kutner starts but Taub cuts him off.

"You don't have to give it away," Taub whispers, staring at him. "You could have made something up."

"What was I supposed to say?" Kutner asks. "That I enjoy crushing my co-workers garden gnomes?"

"You crushed my garden gnomes?!" Wilson exclaimes, inching himself in front of you so he can look out the window also.

"And half your bush," Kutner replies. He gets to his feet and brushes off his back then glances at Taub as he gets to his feet too. "House thought you'd be eating lunch with Cameron. You are eating lunch with Cameron. Thirteen too! Hey." He nods his head. "I didn't really fall into the bush. Taub shoved me."

"You fell," Taub states. "She thinks you're awkward. Get over it."

Somehow, you're not shocked by them being there. You wouldn't even be surprised if Remy planned this so she wouldn't have to eat with Wilson. The two of them didn't quite seem to know how to handle each other. You take a step back as Remy grabs Kutner's hand and helps him in through the window then helps Taub in too.

"There's enough for all of us," Wilson says after a moment. He pauses. "Unless House comes." He shuts the window and gets a few more plates down.

"So have you kissed yet?" Kutner blurts, glancing at you and Remy. Your cheeks start burning and you wrap your arms around yourself, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Kutner," Taub scolds him with a frown.

"What?" Kutner asks, trying to play innocent. "House said they were dating. I was just asking."

"Do you always believe everything _House_ says?" Remy asks, looking slightly amused. "I kicked ass on your Fairytale Wars game. I thought you said it was hard."

Huh. So that's what you were playing. You knew it looked rather weird to be beating up gingerbread men and giant beavers. Playing as Snow White should have given it away. "You didn't have to cross this lava river thing," you point out to her. "That took me almost ten minutes."

Leaving them to discuss House and video games, you walk over to Wilson and help him gather silverware to put on the table. "Sorry about Kutner and Taub," you apologize, giving him a sad sort of smile. "House was bound to show up somehow though."

"The more, the merrier," Wilson answers with a shrug. He takes the lasagna to the table as you take over the plates and forks. "Let's eat."

-----

"That wasn't too bad, was it?" you question, standing out of Remy's apartment building. "I got to eat with Wilson and you got to eat with Kutner and Taub."

"I eat with Kutner and Taub every day," she points out, rubbing her hand up and down her arm. "I got to eat with you."

Despite the freezing weather, you suddenly feel warm. You glance over her and smile, watching snow flurries land in her hair and on her jacket. Her words sounded hesitant though and you feel guilty that you hurt her so much she's nervous to tell you something as simple as she likes having lunch with you. "Are you cold?" you ask, watching the fog form in front of your face as you speak.

"It is fifteen degrees." She wraps her arms around herself and faces Batman as he romps around in the snow. He's stalling when it comes to going to the bathroom so you can take them in, but there's really nothing either of you can do about it. She sniffles and rocks from her heels to her toes, gripping the sides of her jacket.

Moving so you're in front of her, you close the space between you and wrap your arms around her shoulders. "Better?" you question through chattering teeth, keeping an eye on Batman.

"Yeah," she breathes with a smile, huddling closer to you. "You're sure you're staying here?" she asks after a moment, glancing at you.

You nod and rest your head against hers, watching the dog out of the corner of your eye. After a moment of hesitation, you glance up at her. "I think I'm going to break it off with Chase."

She looks at you with an incredulous stare. "You don't have to do that just to stay here," she reassures you, shaking her head.

"It turns out I don't like him as much as I thought I did." You swallow and glance toward the ground, kicking at the snow. You do like Chase. That's an understatement. You love Chase. He's been one of your best friends for a few years. What you're doing is going to more than likely ruin that, but being with him when you don't love him like that isn't fair to either of you.

"I'm sorry." She uncrosses her arms and wraps them around you, drawing you even closer. She sighs in relief as Batman finally decides to stop screwing around and do his business.

"It's okay," you assure her, resting your head against her shoulder. "We'll both move on." _I like you more than I ever liked him anyway. _You pull away when Batman runs toward you and lift him up. "Ready to go in?" you coo, snuggling him to warm him up.

"I feel like I bought you a kid," Remy comments, opening the door for you then following you in. She places a hand on your lower back as the two of you walk toward her apartment door. "That reminds me, I think we should talk."

"About Batman?" you ask, your heart dropping slightly. "You don't really want him, do you?"

"What?" she asks, moving her hand from your back and pulling out her keys. "No, it's not that," she replies quickly, shaking her head. "It's not about Batman. I bought him for you. He's part of the family now."

"Good." You breathe a sigh of relief. For a moment, you were nervous she was going to ask you to give him up because he annoys her. You grin and give him a butterfly kiss, walking inside after she opens the door. "What do we need to talk about?"

She shuts the door then pulls her jacket up over her head and tosses it on the back of a chair. "Allison, you never took an ECP," she reminds you slowly. "I think you should take a blood test."

"I told you I didn't want an ECP." You grind your teeth, unable to believe you never even thought about being pregnant. The chances were slim. The chances of being pregnant with Chase's kid were even more likely than being pregnant with the guy who raped you. "I don't want to talk about this." You place Batman on the floor and walk over to the couch.

"We don't want to talk about things and then we explode on each other, Allison!" Remy replies, her voice sincere and going up an octave before softening again. "I just think you should get a blood test. That's it. If it comes up negative, we'll never have to talk about it again."

You collapse down onto the couch and rest sideways against the back cushions. Sighing, you tuck your hair behind your ear and glance over at her. "The answer is going to be the same either way," you state matter-of-factly, fear welling up inside of you. "Taking a test won't change it."

"No," she agrees, walking over to the couch. "But at least you'll know the answer and it won't come as a shock if it's positive." She sits so she's facing you and curls her legs up under her. "Just take the test."

"What happens if it's positive?" you ask. Your lips make a straight line and you look away from her, afraid of the answer. There was no way you could push a kid off on her. It was bad enough she had to deal with you acting the way you were.

"I don't know," she admits quietly, staring at you for a moment before looking down at her lap. "If it's positive, you'll have nine months to get yourself back together."

Leaning forward, you place your elbows on your legs and rest your chin against your closed fists. "Who's going to help me raise a kid?" you ask, expecting her to remind you that you should have thought about that when you refused the ECP. If you were pregnant, abortion is out of the question. Why kill something as innocent as a baby? It never asked for all of this to happen. Chances are, you're not pregnant though.

"I can't help you with that, Allison," she says in a somber voice. "You really want someone who's going to be dead in the next ten to twenty years helping you with some kid?"

"You're on meds," you murmur with a pain expression on your face. "I saw it in your medicine cabinet. Have you had any tremors?"

"We're not making this about me," she answers. It's impossible to read the emotion in her voice. "Just take the test."

"It's still too early," you reply. Even if the uncertainty is painful and you don't want to think about the big issues, you want to be honest with each other. "I'll take it in a few days." You shift so one of your feet is on the floor and tap it against the carpet several times. It suddenly feels too late to tell her how much you like her.


	23. Chapter 23

What was said to me was just...blah. I'm tired. This is my fic. I'll write how I want and respond to people how I want. So...here goes! - Also. I just woke up and have already misspelled a billion review replies...you all probably already saw that. So...excuse any misspellings. I was going to wait until morning to update...but I'm bored out of my mind!

**Eva:** Thanks so much for reviewing! I think I might abandon my own ship if it ended up being 200 chapters though. Ha.  
**Sunny:** Thanks so much for reviewing!  
**Melissa: **I'm happy I'm managing to work in interactions. I have a new secret weapon when it comes to displaying emotions though show not tell...and it looks like it's working! So glad I found it. Secret weapons make me feel dark. Baha. I think Remy would disagree about the Batman thing. She might lose a few fingers if she squeezes him. xDDD Cam would agree though. Ha. I've been told I write pretty cute kids whether she is or isn't.  
**Setyourself:** Thank you so much. Even though you're online...that whole "-wiggles eyebrows-" was super adorable. Hehe.  
**Kirei:** Eh. It was some stuff that was said. Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Kj: **Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Audio: **Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like it. Despite that I have the last chapter all planned out...I think I'll be continuing for quite sometime.  
**Roronoa:** I do know the end of the story. And also major events between now and the end. I'm just going chapter by chapter...not really know what the next chapter will be about until I hit a major event. But I'm enjoying doing it that way. Despite writers block, it seems to be working out just fine. It is fanfic, after all. It's not like I'm worried about getting it published or something. Wilson is my new best friend. He'll probably be appearing more often. I like ending things on a darker not. It inspires me to write the next chapter.  
**Foolishgames: **Thanks so much for taking the time to review my story. It means a lot to me. I'm not good at shoving everything together quickly. It ends up being awkward. Heh.  
**Nijram:** Thank you so much. I plan on continuing it for quite awhile.  
**Potion:** Happiness is so overrated. "Happily ever after" is just a myth. I don't think I could write more than a oneshot without angst and drama. I'd like to hear some of your ideas. So far, everyone generally has the same idea from what I've heard.  
**Murmurs: **Thanks so much!  
**Ina:** Yes, well, I have to allow you some moments of joy. I could (and would prefer sometimes) to torture you all mercilessly...but...!  
**Twampy: **Making my readers cry is sooo -win-. Haha. Glad you like Batman. He makes me happy to write. Especially when he's a "jerk". Teehee.  
**Nameless: **Remy/Wilson always feels awkward to write...and if House would have showed up, he would have made things purposely even more awkward. Ha. It was better to have Kutner and Taub. Oh...yes...the end will definitely be to /my/ liking. I'm just gonna leave that sentence how it is. -snickers- I like going in depth with characters other people created. Everyone always tells me they're going to ship me off the work for LOST or House bc I'm always grumbling about how I would have done things.  
**Voldemort: **So...I don't watch Harry Potter. But I have these two friends that listen to Potter Puppet Pals and go around singing. Now...my brain keeps repeating, "Voldemort. Voldemort. Ooh Volde-Volde-Volde-Volde-Voldemort!" Now I have to sit here bc it's hard to take anything seriously. Hahaha. - This fic could be 87+ chapt depending what happens. Cameron might confess her feelings...eventually. She's taking her time. She was actually supposed to do that last chapter...but it didn't happen. Thanks so much for reviewing!  
**Lessthan13:** Who cares about readers? -hesitantly raises hand- You guys are too awesome for me to not care about! Gravity is just a myth invented to make people think they have to stay on Earth (and to watch them injure themselves!). Ha.  
**Ilessthree: **If you want Batman, you'll have to fight Cameron for him. And you be able to get to Cameron, you'll have to go through Remy. I don't think it'd be worth it! Me + Happy times = Ahahahahahaha.  
**Sara:** Thanks so much for reviewing! Glad you like it!  
**Ilive: **Thanks so much. I always feel like I'm missing out on things important to the character when my chapters are too short. If they were shorted, I'd end up cutting out the little bits of fluff I actually have. Batman, Wilson, and Kutner would be missed...by me at least.  
**JB:** Yeah...a bad review is close enough to what happened. I think it's okay now. I asked for my fic to be left alone. I'll write it how I want it. I might be a little slower at updating. School is gonna be starting soon and updating takes a lot of thought and time. I will be pumping out oneshots when I have writers block for SF though! I'm impulsive too. I actually thought about deleting everything. But I know I'd back it all up first on my computer bc I can't let go of things. I like making people understand what I'm writing and why...and occasionally joking around up here. -snickers- It's also easier than responding to a million PMs. I'd get panicky I might accidentally forget people. Poor Kutner and Taub. Lol. They're sticking around for awhile at least bc they're fun to write. Hm. I never thought of Batman being dog-napped. o_o The rape will definitely come up if they start being intimate. No getting around it.  
**Tortured: **Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Jess: **Don't apologize for not reviewing more often. Point is...I don't want anyone to feel like they have to. Bc they don't. I'm glad you like Wilson! Fairytale Wars was the only game I could think of bc I really wanted to play it at the moment. Ha. It's a hilarious game! I play it with my two brothers all the time. Unfortunately, Remy having Huntington's has to be brought up eventually. Death isn't really something you can skip around.  
**YDPP:** Wow. Killing everyone off and having freaky happenings actually sounds like something I would even do. Lol. But...I don't plan on killing /everyone/ off! I have to remind myself this isn't LOST when I get in the mood to kill people off. Lol.  
**Amazon:** Yes. Cam is back with Remy and now I can go have Chase for myself. And I will make sure he never ever ever cuts his hair again!!! D= Stupid guy. When are my chapters /ever/ light-hearted?! Haha. I feel really bad about falling asleep PMing you! I don't even remember closing my eyes! Next thing I knew, I woke up and was all, "Oh my gosh, it's 4am!!!! DDDD=". I didn't even know I was tired. Huh.  
**Final: **Baha. I'm not going to call you names for not reviewing! Like I said...reviewing is optional. As impossible as this may sound...my life will go on without reviews. -gasp- Thanks for taking the time to review though. xD  
**Anonymous:** I was actually wondering where you were. Haha. I'm glad you like it. Thanks so much!  
**Shan: **You can just call me 'R' or 'Ra', if you want. Rabidnar is an acronym and it feels weird seeing 'Rab'. Haha. Or you can call me 13 or Richard (which is what the 'R' stands for). It's just something that was said to me that made me feel like I owed apologies. But I realize now that the person was wrong and I need to just go about doing things my own way. Not all about puppies and rainbows? That cracked me up. I'm writing a Fem// fic with a puppy named Batman. Their life literally /is/ all about puppies and rainbows!!! xDDDD

Anyway. After the latest House...Wilson is so my new best friend! I used to wish House was my partner in crime...but now it's all about Wilson. I was literally rofl and hyperventilating! And did anyone else thing Thirteen was even cuter than usual? I didn't even know she could get any cuter until last episode. And next episode...omgosh. Obviously (especially if you've read Somewhere A Clock Is Ticking), I have a major thing for torturing Remy and psychopaths...and now I have both in the same episode!!!

And thanks to WrongObsession who is now helping me edit SF.

Oh. And I got one song request for a oneshot that I'm looking into doing...which reminds me if anyone has any oneshot requests, feel free to throw them at me! I can't make promises about writing them, but something might inspire me!

* * *

**Thirteen's POV: **

You have to remind yourself that smalls steps are your best option. Long, drawn out conversations will only upset you both. At least you got her to agree to take the test. It put you a little bit more at ease, but you're still nervous. What if the test ends up being positive? You're already not sure if you have a chance of being with her, but if she's pregnant, then that ruins whatever possibility you might have. You're dying. You remember what it was like to be a kid and watch your own mother die. There's little point in letting a kid get attached to you when your life will soon be over. Even worse, you'll go through hell before you die. That's another reason you can add to the endless list working against you and your chances with Cameron. You can't put her through that.

You lean sideways against the back of the couch, resting your head against your arm as you watch her. She stares downward and sways slowly back and forth, appearing deep in thought. You glance down at her foot as she taps it nervously on the ground, the movement practically vibrating the couch. You've discussed the chance that she's pregnant. She doesn't need to stay fixated on it. "I think," you say slowly, pausing to figure out a suggestion to get her mind off things, "that a vacation day warrants pajamas and hot chocolate."

She stops moving for a moment before glancing up at you. "It's the middle of the day and you want to wear pajamas?" she questions, her tone unreadable. "My pajamas are at Chase's house."

"You have what I gave you to wear to bed last night," you answer with a shrug. "Christmas is over. I think we can do without the reindeer." You try to lighten the mood but your words trickle off and you feel directionless. "I'll even let you kick my ass at a video game?"

Cameron gives a half-hearted shrug. "I'm going to call my mom first," she answers quietly and gets to her feet. She digs through her pocket for her cell phone and walks toward the kitchen.

"Alright." You turn to face the TV and contemplate turning it on to play the X-box. You don't get very far past consideration. Pursing your lips together, you tap your fingers on your knee and glance around the living room. Batman is sitting a few feet away from the couch and you sigh and look over at him. "Want to go for a walk?"

Batman stares at you for a moment before getting to his feet and following Cameron into the kitchen.

"Okay," you say slowly, drawing out the 'kay'. It's hard to figure out how your apartment suddenly managed to become so lonely and boring even with Cameron and Batman there. You get up and walk back to the bedroom, determined to finish out your vacation day the way you planned it. If Cameron doesn't want to wear pajamas and drink hot chocolate, then she's missing out and that's her problem.

Your mind travels to work as you strip down to your underwear then put your nightgown back on. It would be so easy to just grab your car keys and drive to the hospital. If House doesn't have a case, he's always willing to hand over his clinic duty. It would be something to keep you occupied and take your mind off everything. Leaving Cameron home alone doesn't seem like the best idea though.

Adjusting one of the straps on your nightgown, you turn to look at yourself in the mirror. The bags under your eyes and how thin you've become causes you to wrinkle your nose in disgust. You've managec to look better than this even after long, sleepless nights at clubs and bars. Helping Cameron is taking its toll, but you know you wouldn't give it up. Because of her, you don't feel so empty anymore.

A deep sigh escapes your lips and you rub at your eyes with the palms of your hands. It would be so nice to return to earlier when you were on the couch with your head resting on Cameron's lap. It's selfish to want attention, but it's also human nature. You're tired and lying next to Cameron is the most comfortable place you can think of to relax. You slide your hands from your eyes up into your hair and continue to stare at yourself in the mirror. In the reflection, you can see Cameron walking into the room behind you. She flips her cell phone shut and forces a smile.

"Decide to join me?" you ask, watching her through the reflection in the mirror for a second before turning around to face her. "You didn't talk very long."

"I wanted to be with you," she answers quietly with a shrug. It takes her a moment of glancing around the room before she finds where she dropped the t-shirt and sweatpants she had been wearing the night before. They're folded neatly beside your crumpled pile of laundry. She walks over to the clothes and stops in front of them. After a moment of hesitation, she pulls her shirt up over her head.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry as you stare at her bare back. Her body is forbidden territory, you remind yourself. She's hurt and she's _straight_. The room seems to lack oxygen and you find yourself breathing through your mouth. She doesn't put her shirt on before she takes off her pants too. You watch as she bends over in her underwear to pick up the clothes she's going to wear. Using every ounce of self-control you can possibly find in yourself, you look away. "I'm going to be in the living room." Your words are rushed and are more just a slur of sounds, rather than a sentence that's understandable. Not waiting for her response, you drag yourself from the room.

Thinking she's teasing you is illogical but sometimes it's like she pretends she just doesn't see you there, even though she knows you're watching. It makes you angry at yourself to realize you look at her that way you do. She's more than just a friend and different than any girl you've ever picked up before. Cameron is someone you could potentially fall in love with if you let yourself, and that thought alone is terrifying. Love is painful. It's not supposed to be, but it always seems to cause more hurt than pleasure.

You walk into the living room and kneel down by your X-box. It takes a moment, but after some debate, you decide to pug in a second controller just incase she wants to play. There's nothing like mindlessly killing gingerbread men and beavers to get your mind off the stuff you should be thinking about. You think about buying an extra steering wheel controller so the two of you can play racing games together, but realize it would be easier just to borrow Kutner's. You make a mental note to ask him for it tomorrow at work.

"We should take down the Christmas decorations," Cameron comments hesitantly, walking into the room. She wanders over to the tree and takes one of the candy canes.

"We'll do that on New Years," you answer, trying to sound like you're just lazy. In truth, you like looking at the decorations. You'll have to find another constant reminder of Cameron once you take them down. Everything on the X-box is ready to go so you turn on the TV then stand up. "Do you want some hot chocolate?"

"I'll make it." She stands by the tree for a moment longer, focused on getting the plastic off the candy cane. Once she gets it open, she crumples the plastic in her hand and puts the candy cane in her mouth. "Milk or water?"

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?" you tease her, smirking in amusement as she tries to keep the candy cane in her mouth and speak at the same time, causing her voice to slur a bit.

"Nope," she answers, not removing the candy from her mouth. "But she did teach me if you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all." She pokes your side as she walks past, causing you to grin. "Now answer the question." She walks into the kitchen and toward the cupboard to get mugs.

"What was the question?" you ask in an innocent voice, following a few steps behind her.

She sighs deeply and pulls down two mugs. "Milk or water?" she repeats slowly, the candy still slurring her voice.

"Milf or wawer?" you mock her, trying to keep a straight face. Stopping beside her, you bump shoulders with her. "I don'f know. You telf me."

Cameron pulls the candy cane out of her mouth and spins around, pointing it at your face. "Are you _five_?" she asks, smirking and raising an eyebrow at you.

You cross your eyes to look at the candy cane. It's about a centimeter away from stabbing you in the nose. "Nope," you answer confidently with a grin. "But I spend time with House and Kutner, so what do you expect?" You lift your hand and push her makeshift weapon away, ensuring she isn't going to accidentally jab you in the face with it.

"True," she sighs, trying to sound exasperated but failing. She puts the candy back in her mouth then grabs the mugs and walks over to the refrigerator.

Allowing her to make the hot chocolate, you pull a chair out from under the table and collapse onto it. "Kutner has been really happy lately," you muse, resting your elbow on the table and your head against your hand. "Do you think I should ask him out?" You really aren't attracted to him, but you need a better distraction from Cameron than Rebecca can provide.

Cameron slams the microwave door loudly once she puts the mugs inside, causing you to look up. "Do you think I should ask Wilson out?" she retorts, hitting the buttons on the microwave and not turning to look at you.

"No." Your tone is a tad harsh and the word escapes your mouth much too quickly. Frowning, you look away from her again and scrunch up your face in disgust. Cameron and Wilson would not make a good couple, you tell yourself, despite their obvious chemistry. You and Cam-You remind yourself not to think that way. "The microwave is going to go-"

The microwave beeps and Cameron jumps at the sudden noise. She glances down and rubs her arm then wraps her arms around herself.

"…off," you finish, getting to your feet. "It startles me too sometimes," you lie, walking over and opening the microwave door.

"Sorry," she murmurs then puts her candy cane back in her mouth.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," you assure her. You're beginning to get tired of hearing the word 'sorry'. You pull out the two mugs and take a sip from one of the warm cups of milk, then set them both down on the counter. "Do you like Wilson?" you ask, trying to sound casual as you pull two packets of hot chocolate down from the cupboard.

"Wilson is my friend," she answers, walking over and taking one of the packets from you. "I was making a point."

"You don't want me dating Kutner so you threaten to date Wilson? Why?" you ask, trying to understand her point. You take a step back and open the drawer you're standing in front of to get two spoons. She stares at you with an sullen look on her face then takes one of the spoons and sets to stirring her hot chocolate in silence. You take a sip of your hot chocolate after mixing it then lick your lips, getting the hint you should shut up before you say something _really_ stupid.

"I'm going to play with the X-box," you inform her, watching her take the candy cane out of her mouth and swirl it around in the hot chocolate a few times before dropping it in. "You're more than welcome to join me."

"How do you manage to play with your wrist wrapped?" she asks, following you into the living room. "You should really let me check that later."

"My wrist is fine," you reply quickly, glancing down at it. There was no intense pain or excessive swelling, only sore cuts you had put there purposely. You take another sip of your drink then put the mug on the coffee table and collapse back onto the couch. Playing videos games with only one hand was definitely not easy and you already know she's going to beat you. You lean forward and pick up the two controllers then hand her one. "Good luck," you say an overconfident grin. "You're going to need it."

"I'm not the one who can barely hold the controller," she reminds you, settling back against the couch. "Just because-" Her voice comes to a halt as the sound of her ringtone can be heard coming from back in the bedroom. She glances back toward to room then sighs and puts her controller down beside her. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," you answer, propping your feet up on the table. You glance at her and smirks as she starts toward her phone. "Maybe I'll hit play and get a head start."

"You're such a cheater!" she calls to you once she gets to the bedroom.

You chuckle softly and set the controller down beside you. "Bring your phone out here," you call to her. "If you play while you're on the phone, maybe I'll have a fair chance!" You wait for her to respond, but glance at Batman when there's silence. He stares back at you and cocks his head to the side. "I guess she doesn't like cheaters," you tell him, rolling your eyes with a smirk.

You slap your hands down on your knees and pretend to be making an advance toward the dog. He leaps to his feet and growls at you. "I didn't know cotton balls could be so ferocious," you say sarcastically. You get to your feet and walk back to the bedroom, curious to see who Cameron is talking to. You're shocked to see her sitting on your side of the bed, hugging one of your pillows as she holds the phone to her ear. She's staring straight ahead with a blank, unreadable expression.

"Is that him?" you ask, clenching your fists. She looks up at you with wide eyes, almost staring right through you. "Allison, is that him on the phone?" you repeat firmly although you're already sure of the answer. You slowly crawl up onto the bed, kneeling in an unbalanced manner beside her. You put your injured hand on her shoulder to keep yourself up right then snatch the phone from her.

"Remy!" she cries, snapping back to reality. Her eyes go even wider and she grabs for the phone but you hold it away from her. "What are you doing?!"

"Who the hell is this?" you ask, pressing the phone to your ear.

"_Well, I was wondering when you and I would get a chance to chat," the voice over the phone sneers. "I knew eventually someone would try to stick up for her. I was just hoping it'd be her pathetic excuse for a boyfriend."_

"You listen," you snap, not really caring for a conversation if it won't get you any answers. "Stop calling," you warn him. Cameron has started shaking so you sit down and pull her closer to you. "You better keep over five hundred thousand miles away from her, do you understand?"

"_Or what?" he asks in an amused tone. "You'll go to the police? They're already looking for me. Do you have a backup plan?"_

"I'm not screwing around with you," you snarl, your nostrils flaring as you take deep breaths. "I will _find_ you if I have to." Eyes fixated angrily on the wall, you try to remain calm and not go into a blind rage. Cameron is attempting to hide against you, her face buried against your bare shoulder. You place your hand on the back of her head and snap the phone shut then throw it toward the end of the bed. "He's just trying to get a rise out of you, Allison," you tell her, clenching your jaw. "He wants you to get all worked up." You hate how every time she starts feeling okay, he shoves her right back down. "What did he say to you?" you ask, feeling her warm tears falling onto your shoulder.

She wraps her arms around you like a little kid that needs reassurance she's safe and protected. Her breath starts hitching in her throat and she can't seem to get close enough to you. "He said he'll see me soon," she whimpers.


	24. Chapter 24

**Kirei28:** Bahaha. You may be the only person to ever say they're glad I'm back to my usual self. xD Anyway. You don't need a hint. You can meet him in this chapter.  
**Random: **Ah. Mmkay. I'll try to do that. Thanks for reviewing.  
**Bigblusky: **You're all so intent on Remy injuring people! Goodness!  
**Anyonymous:** The x-box pwns. We have xbox, xbox360, ps1, ps3, wii, etc etc. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Enigmatic:** Thanks for reviewing!  
**Ilessthree:** Yeeaah. I dunno if you wanna go through Remy to get to him. Ha. I mean...-holds back laughter- -grin-  
**Angel's: **I'm glad you're liking it. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Amazon:** Tense from that chapt turns to intense for this one. Bahaha. Hey...I happen to like Chase! He's cute...and has an accent. Plus...Cam/Remy have to be together, so Chase is my only other option. Lol.  
**Eva:** I keep looking to see if there's any other previews up yet! I'm so excited. Unfortunately, I have class, so I'll have to wait until someone posts it online. Gr.  
**Melissa: **Glad you liked Alex. He practically had his own fanclub. Hehe. Ah. Sneakiness is fun!  
**Ilive:** Glad you're loving it! Thanks for reviewing!  
**YDPP**: My bad guys are always evil. So, yes, that was my goal. Hehe. Bahaha. Embarrassing House dreams? xD I had a House dream the other night. More hilarious than embarrassing. I was Thirteen...and insulted Cameron then Cuddy insulted me then I insulted myself. -fail-  
**Shan:** Haha. The puppies and rainbows comment definitely made me think for a moment!  
**Nameless:** The wait is finally over! Yay! They won't go overboard on making each other jealous. Considering Kutner is harmless and Cam/Wilson don't like each other like that. The police have looked for him bc well...he did rape her.  
**Twampy:** Why the frown?! Spazzing Remy and psychopaths pwn! Haha. So...this is pretty pathetic, but for a moment I was like, "Huh...Signal? Fire?" Then I was like, "Oh! That's the name of my fic!!! -blush-"  
**Seventh:** Haha. Noooo comment.  
**Lessthan13:** I didn't give a clue. Cause well...I have this chapter.  
**Setyourself:** You might need that universal health care for this chapt! According to my friends who've read it anyway!  
**Ina:** Yup. Maybe soon there'll be some more shedding of clothes. -wink- No one saw me type that! Bc I wanted to include the police in this chapt and the next one. Ha.  
**Serious:** Aw. Thank you!

Anyway. So...brief update!  
I now have twitter incase anyone wants to follow me. My name is 'rabidnar'.  
And...sorry it took so long for me to update! I'm big on missions and foreign countries and the disaster in Haiti has pretty much shattered my heart. I donated through Olivia Wilde. $200. So...I should be getting a 'thank you' video. If/When I get it, I'll let y'all know and anyone who wants to see it can hit me with an email.

Warning: I had fun with this chapter!!! It was killer to write, but I enjoyed it like no other! - Also. I got the name for the person off wiki...no clue if I'm correct. I'll honestly say, I'm just improvising. I have not seen many House episodes before this season.

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

'Soon' is such an objective word. 'Soon' is the kind of word that exists only within the experiencer's mind. It could mean five seconds from now or it could mean five months from now, depending on what your unsub's version of the word actually means. But the definition of length doesn't matter; the thought of seeing him again scares you half to death. Clinging to Remy, you allow her presence to soothe you. You know you should work on comforting yourself, but you like the security she provides.

"I'm going to call the police, Allison," she says, leaning sideways and grabbing your phone again. "He's just trying to insert his control over you and I'm putting an end to it."

"What are the police going to do?" you mumble bitterly against her shoulder. "Every time he calls, it's from a different number. He's probably using payphones or tracphones so no one will be able to track him down." You sniffle and let go of her long enough to rub at your nose before gripping the back of her nightgown again. The silky fabric is hard to hold onto but you repeatedly tighten your grip on her.

"Well, I'm not going to risk him showing up here and hurting you again," she replies in an irritated tone, thankfully though she seems frustrated with him and not you. She gently pries you off of her and flips your phone open, examining the buttons for a moment. "Where the hell is the call button on this thing?"

You hesitate and wipe at your face to get rid of the tears. "It's the one with the green line on the side," you whisper finally. You bite back to urge to tell her not to call and settle back against the backboard of the bed. For some reason, you feel like you need to protect this man from the police and that terrifies you. You have a big heart, but not big enough to protect someone who needs to be locked up. Something about him is familiar though. Exhaling a long breath through your mouth, you grab Remy's pillow and hug it tightly.

"Thanks." She dials the three numbers then flips her hair back and holds the phone to her ear. "Hello, this is Remy Hadley. I'm calling to report a threat my friend just received." She runs her fingers through her hair and lets her hand rest on top of her head. After a pause, she clenches her jaw. "Yes, I realize that, but…No."

Her frustration with the operator is evident and you watch her carefully, keeping silent.

"No, _you_ listen," she snaps at the operator, moving so she's kneeling on the bed. "I'm not going to wait and see if he calls back. This guy just _raped_ my friend a few days ago."

The word 'rape' causes you to cringe and makes your chest tighten. You've been trying to just push it from your mind, not wanting to face it. Just hearing someone say the word is painful.

"Yes, I'm positive it's the same guy!" Remy answers the operator, narrowing her eyes. She lowers her hand from her head and switches the phone to her other ear. "I want someone over here and I want them over here _now! _I want a policeman at my house, making sure that we're safe! I know that, but…Fuck you!" Her voice trails off and she grinds her teeth before snapping the phone shut. "She hung up on me! Fuck them!" she exclaims, throwing the phone on the floor.

"Rem," you mumble quietly, startled by her outburst. "You said he just wants to get a rise out of me. Now he's getting what he wants from both of us."

"The police in New Jersey need to learn how to do their damn jobs," she snaps, glaring in the direction of where she tossed the phone as she gets to her feet. "I'm getting my phone and calling Kutner and Taub to come over."

Neither Kutner nor Taub seem like they'd do a very good job at protecting you, but they're better than calling someone like Foreman. Plus having two guys in the house would make you feel somewhat safer. "Alright," you murmur hesitantly and also stand up. "Maybe we could call someone who works for security at the hospital."

"Good idea," she agrees, nodding her head. "Someone on security will at least have a weapon." She walks out of the bedroom, muttering a few choice words under her breath about the policemen in New Jersey.

You put the pillow down and walk over to the other side of the bed. Peering down at your phone, you're relieved to see the fall didn't visibly break it except for a few chips in the plastic. You pick it up and place it on the bed then turn and hurry after Remy. "Rem, do you-" You're both in the middle of the living room when there's a knock on the door that causes the two of you to freeze.

Images of what-could-be begin flash through your mind and your entire body suddenly feels stiff. "Do you think they decided to send the police?" you whisper, your mouth feeling suddenly dry.

"I never gave them my address," she whispers back. Her eyes widen and she glances around. "I'm calling the police again."

"Allison!" The male behind the door yells. "Open the door before I break it down!"

The color drains from your face and the sound of your heart roars in your ears. "I recognize that voice," you whisper, wishing you weren't frozen in your spot so you could take a few steps toward Remy. The voice is familiar, but you can't manage to put your finger on it. "I _know_ that person."

"Well, maybe you can introduce us," Remy whispers back in a sarcastic, strained voice. She seems to be just as paralyzed as you are and is suddenly breathing heavy.

The man slams something (or possibly himself) hard against the door. The frame shakes, making a cracking noise.

"Oh god," you murmur in a shrill voice, somehow managing to stumble back a few steps. Your knees lock up again and you look frantically for some sort of an escape. "Remy, call the police," you hiss.

Batman trots into the living room and stops to stare at the door. He growls for a moment at Remy then glances at the door again before making his way back toward the bedroom.

"Batman!" Remy calls after him in a quiet voice. "Get your ass out here and do what I bought you to do!" She turns and is about to make a dash for the kitchen when there's another crash against the door. This time it flies open, and a man stumbles inside.

Your hands quickly cover your mouth and your lips begin to tremble as you stare at the guy in front of you. "_Joe?!_" you cry, tears welling up in your eyes.

He straightens himself up and switches the gun he's holding from one hand to the other. "Didn't think you'd see me again, did you?" he asks, sounding triumphant. "All these years, I looked for you after you disappeared. I finally got a hold of your mother and she told me exactly where you were." He slams the door shut behind him.

Your breath starts hitching in your throat as you stare at the man you once fell for. "Joe," is all you can choke out. "Why-Why-"

"Why am I doing this?" Joe asks, arching a brow.

"Well that sure as hell would be nice to know!" Remy exclaims, glancing back and forth between the two of you. "Someone better fill me the hell in."

Joe turns to face her and tilts his head to the side. "You're Remy, right?" he asks, but doesn't wait for the confirmation. "She never told you about me? The man she had an affair with while her husband was dying?"

"It wasn't an affair!" you cry out, trying to keep the tears in your eyes from falling down your face. You can't tell whether Remy looks terrified or simply pissed off. "You and I, Joe, we didn't _do_ anything!"

"No, you're right. You just toyed with my fucking emotions, like the slut you are!" Joe yells, pointing the gun at you.

"Leave her the fuck alone," Remy growls at him harshly, taking a step forward. She comes to a halt when he turns the gun toward her. "Look at who you're talking about. You really think _Allison _meant to hurt you?"

"Shut your damn mouth," Joe hisses through his teeth, narrowing his eyes and clenching his fingers around the gun. One wrong move and he risks slipping and pulling the trigger. "Let me guess," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "There's something _wrong_ with you, isn't there? Maybe you know someone who just recently died, or maybe _you're_ the one sick or dying. That's how Allison works. She finds someone who needs fixed and then when she can't do anymore for them, she throws them away and moves onto the next person. She feeds off of other people's pain and then when they aren't hurting anymore, she moves onto the next person who is. She doesn't even know how to love people. She just knows how to give them what they need."

You squeeze your eyes shut, furiously shaking your head. Your breaths become short bursts of air and you press your palms to your eyes as you attempt to keep yourself under control. Every part of your body is quivering beyond your control. "I didn't marry him because he was _dying_!" you manage. "I _loved_ him!"

"Like hell you did!" Joe retorts. "You would have married me if he didn't have cancer! But instead of me, you chose him!" he spat unmercifully. "Then when he died, you took off for New Jersey without even a goodbye!" He directs his voice toward Remy. "So go ahead and tell me what's wrong with you. There has to be something for Cameron to be sticking around. And I guarantee you it isn't because _she_ needs _you_, so there has to be some reason she feels _you_ need _her_."

"Get the hell out of my house before I beat the shit out of you," Remy snaps. Her chest heaves with each breath and she clenches her fists, digging her nails deep into the palms of her hand. "Fuck the fact you have a gun."

"Really? And how are you going to do that?" Joe walks forward and grabs you by the arm, pulling you close. He presses the gun against your cheek.

"Remy," you choke out fearfully before you can stop yourself. Tears overflow down your cheeks. You try to gain comfort just from saying her name, but your stomach drops as the gun presses harder against your face. Pursing your lips together so they form a straight line, you attempt to hold back sobs.

"I always thought doctors were supposed to be composed," Joe comments dryly. You know he means, you because the only feeling Remy is radiating is anger. "You never did match up to anything you were supposed to be though, did you, Allison?"

"If you hurt her, I will _kill_ you," Remy threatens him, somehow managing to keep herself calm. "You want to point the gun at someone? Point it at me!"

He's still holding your arm and his touch makes you feel like your skin is going to burn right off. "Don't do it, please," you whisper, feeling completely defeated. "She didn't do anything wrong. Joe, I'm so sorry!"

"It's too late for apologies!" Joe yells at you, shoving the gun even harder against the side of your face. "It's too late for _anything_ from you! Don't you understand that? I own you now so keep your damn mouth shut unless I you're spoken to. I'm trying to prove my love to you!"

"This isn't love!" you screech, your voice going up several octaves. "You hurt me!"

"You hurt me first!" Joe yells, digging his nails into your arm. "You fucking hurt me first!" He spins you to face him and presses the gun to your forehead then spits in your face.

You've never felt more despicable and worthy of contempt in your entire life. Shaking with repressed sobs, you slowly lift your hand and wipe the saliva from just under your right eye.

"Get the fuck out of my house!" Remy yells, taking several steps forward. Her cheeks are a deep shade of red and her entire body is shaking in rage. "Get out!"

"You wanna play Russian Roulette, Allison?!" Joe yells, pushing the gun against your forehead so it indents in your skin.

"No!" you wail, trying desperately to pull away. "No! No!" It's the only word running through your mind. Your surroundings are suddenly a blur and your only focus is someone who was once your friend is about to play Russian Roulette with your face. "No!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Joe bellows, making his hold on you even tighter. "Shut up before I pull fucking the trigger!"

"Cameron, listen to him before he pulls the damn trigger," Remy warns you, her voice slow and void of emotion.

You clap your hands over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as possible. This couldn't be happening. You begin waiting for Remy to wake you up and tell you you were just having a bad dream. Realizing you're wearing her shirt, you grab neckline and clutch it in front of your mouth and nose.

"Here's what's going to happen," Joe states calmly. "I'm going to pull the trigger three times. If you live, we'll make love again then I'll let you go. But if you die, I'll shoot your girlfriend too. Then I'll dump your bodies in the nearest river and go home."

"Please," Remy whispers, her voice starting to crack. "It was an accident. She didn't mean to hurt you. Let her go."

Joe pulls the trigger once.

"Oh god," you choke, letting go of your shirt and quickly wrapping your arms around yourself. "Remy, I have to tell you something!"

"Allison, stop talking," Remy hisses. "Joe, listen to me. There're other girls out there besides Cameron. Pulling that trigger will ruin the rest of your life. Do you want that?"

"Girls other than Allison?" Joe asks, breathing a sarcastic laugh. "You don't get too much better than this one."

He pulls the trigger a second time.

You're going to die. Realization settles in. He's probably got it all planned out. He's going to pull the trigger one more time and blow your brains out. Then he's going to turn around and shoot Remy. You suddenly remember what you were trying to say. "Remy, listen to me!" you cry, your voice hoarse from yelling. "Remy, I lo-" You're suddenly yanked to the side. Joe lets go of you and you nearly fall, managing to stumble and catch yourself. Your eyes fly open to see Remy tackling Joe onto the couch.

"Go back to the bedroom!" Remy yells at you, fighting for control of the gun. She's half on top of Joe, one of her knees pressed hard into his stomach. The gun is pointing every which way and no one's finger is on the trigger, though they're both struggling for it.

"Remy!" you sob, your eyes widening. You're rooted to your spot, unable to just leave her there.

"Just go back to the fucking bedroom!" Remy hollers. "Call the police and lock the door!"

Your phone is in the bedroom. You turn and run, making it down the hall in three times faster than you normally would. You slam the bedroom door behind you and hit the lock then launch yourself onto the bed and snatch your phone. _Dear God, if you're real, please let it work._ You flip it open and dial nine-one-one then press the phone hard against your ear.

"_Nine-One-One Operator. What is your emergency?"_

Tears of relief mix in with the ones of horror. "There's a guy with a gun," you manage to get out. "He's fighting with my friend for it!"

"_Alright, Ma'am, what is your location?"_

Panicking, you spit out the address as quickly as possible. A gunshot catches your attention. "Oh god, someone shot."

"_Someone is on their way, Ma'am. What's your name?"_

"Allison Cameron." Your voice is reduced to a choked whisper. What if Remy was shot? You can't go out there without risking your own life. She could be injured or even dead and it'd be your fault. You try to get up but your knees give out and you crumple to the floor, ignoring Batman as he rushes to your side.

"_Don't hang up, Ma'am. Help is on the way."_

-----

It feels like hours have passed before you hear sirens. Quietly, thank the operator then hang up the phone and continue to stay where you are on the floor. Your tears have been replaced by shock and you're unable to move. The only thing you can think about is Remy. You want her to be okay. Batman has curled up beside you but it provides very little comfort. There's voices coming from the living room after a moment but you can't tell who they belong to. You're on your arms and knees with your hands covering your head and your face pressed against the floor. With a guttural moan, you wait for someone to come retrieve you.

As if your thought was a queue, there's a knock on the bedroom door. "Allison?" Remy's voice asks quietly.

Opening your eyes, you scramble to your feet and toward the door. The process of opening it nearly breaks the knob off, you're so anxious. You swing the door open so hard, it crashes into the wall. "Rem," you rasp, facing her.

"I shot him in the shoulder," she whispers, clenching her jaw and wrapping her arms around herself. "I think you should leave now." Her voice is distant but it still cracks and there are unshed tears in her eyes. "The police took him. You can go home now. They'll come question you at your house."

Your heart implodes then drops down into your stomach. "Don't do this," you plead quietly. "Everything is - Everything is spinning out of control. Please, don't do this," you beg, feeling a fresh wave of tears welling up. "Remy, pl-"

"I shot someone for you!" Breathing heavily, she drops her voice so it's barely above a whisper. "I pulled the trigger on someone for you, but he was right. I hear what people say about you. It only makes sense you're here because you think I need you. Well, I just fucking _shot_ someone for you. I don't need any of this!"

You bring a hand to cover your mouth, muffling a sob. "I don't - No, it's not like that, Remy!" You shake your head, not bothering to push your hair away as it falls in front of your face. "Remy, I swear. I'll- I'll prove it to you!"

"Yeah?" she asks sarcastically. She rubs at her face, quickly wiping away a tear that manages to escape down her cheek. "And how are you going to do that?"

You take a step forward and pin her against the wall. "If you would have shut up while that guy was pointing a gun at my face, you'd already know!" you raise your voice at her, desperate to get your point across. It isn't like how Joe said it was. It's obvious Remy is just fine without being fixed. She doesn't need you to take care of her.

"I was trying to save your life!" she yells back at you, looking like she's going to start crying at any moment. Her chin trembles and she quickly clenches her jaw.

"And I was trying to tell you I love you incase you _failed!_" You grip her upper arms tightly and hold her against the wall, staring her in the eye. Her eyes widen and she gasps quietly, giving you an incredulous stare. "I was scared to tell you," you lower your voice before she can respond. "But since I've obviously just put you through hell and I don't blame you for kicking me out, I thought you should know how I feel. Telling you would only be half of how I feel! You want to know how I _really_ feel?!"

She stares at you with her mouth agape, looking stunned. "Yes," she finally manages to choke out in a whisper, giving a nod that doesn't look as confident and you're sure she means it to be.

It's now or never. You swallow hard and glance to the side before deciding to choose the now. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you look at her again and clench your jaw. Her tough exterior is quickly crumbling and she looks away from you as her face contorts into the fear that's finally catching up to her. You let go of her arms and cup her cheeks, turning her face toward you again. _Now or never. _

You stand up straighter and brush your lips gingerly against hers. It isn't really a kiss at first. You're just testing the waters. She gasps and you're surprised to hear her choke back a sob. Her face scrunches up and she closes her eyes. These last few days have been hell for both of you and she's been the source of strength, but now it was time to just let go. You caress her cheeks with your thumbs and press your lips to hers in a warm, gentle kiss.

Remy is frozen for a moment except for her quivering shoulders. She slowly slides her hand into your hair, twisting the brown locks around her fingers as she kisses back.

Your tongue slides across her lower lip before softly demanding entrance to her mouth. All of your senses are on hyper drive. The fear that came with liking her slowly falls away. She parts her lips and you deepen the kiss. You feel a mixture of salty tears blend together into both your mouths and you're not sure whether they're your own or hers, but the taste doesn't bother either of you. You pull away and stand taller so you can rest your forehead against hers. "I'll go," you whisper, watching her.

Keeping her eyes closed, she slowly shakes her head. "Don't go," she breathes. "I thought- I thought…he was going- I thought I'd _lost_ you. Please, just don't go."


	25. Chapter 25

**Nameless:** After days and days of bugging me about it...here is a new chapter! Haha. After our hours of conversation, that's all I have to say right now. Oh...and...I stopped watching OW and doing Stats...just to update! Er...is it bad I was watching TV and doing Stats at the same time?  
**Kirei:** Do not choke! I do not offer insurance! Lol.  
**Eva:** Thank you! It was my fav to write.  
**Lessthan13:** -points to review insurance disclaimer on my profile- Now, I was forced to put up another disclaimer bc all of my reviewer seemed to be dying!  
**JB:** Well...Maybe this chapt will make things slightly better. Not too much physical damage...but eh.  
**KJ: **You gotta admit...it wouldn't have been as intense if they'd kissed 10 chapts ago.  
**Bigblusky: **Haha. Remy kicked his ass and you're all still cheering her on to beat him up a little more. Oh my. She's badass, but she isn't a ninja! xDDD  
**iBrit:** Thank you very very much. I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
**Enigmatic:** Well...I guess speechlessness is better than my dying reviewers! Heh.  
**Shan:** Glad you liked it!  
**Angel's:** Aha. The Russian Roulette scene was inspired by Lady Gaga's line, "Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun." I guess listening to her while typing is not useless after all!  
**Roronoa:** Remy is secretly a ninja. Shhhh. Hahaha. Thirteen did not call Kutner nor Taub, btw. She didn't get the chance.  
**Anonymous:** Thank you so so so much!  
**Melissa: **Aw. I hope that you're feeling much much better by now! Totally cute story about your dog by the way! It made me giggle. My dog is a wimp too. Haha. She's terrified of mice and waterbugs.  
**Dino:** Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying it!  
**Final:** Glad I was able to get the emotion across.  
**YDPP:** There's always struggles and setbacks with me, huh? -wink-  
**WrongObsession:** I should totally be doing Stats right now. I loved how you sent me the chapt as soon as I was sent my hw. That's totally how my life works...and then we see what my real priorities end up being. xD  
**Twampy:** People are doing nursery rhymes outside. Sorry. I needed to state that...and they started doing them right when I started replying to you. It's creeping me out a bit. Haha. Anyway! Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you liked it!  
**Setyourself:** -points to review insurance on profile- I need to post a big, bright sign with a heart with a happy-face on it, don't I?! Haha.  
**Nijram:** I'm glad you liked it!  
**Dida:** Ah...the joys of deflecting. No need to be afraid to review if I scare you or something. Lol. I'm quite harmless...er...to most people. I often assault Plush Panda...but I'm harmless other than that! xDDD I'm glad I made it seem real. I agonized over that chapter forever. Don't we all need to be hospitalized in mental institutions? Haha.  
**Amazon:** It hit me we haven't talked in awhile. Huh. That's probably my fault somehow. Sowwy! Anyway. Please breathe. Oxygen is important!  
**Ina:** Pun intended? I killed a lot of reviewers, apparently! Why do my chapts make ppl think of weird songs? Haha.  
**Ilessthree:** Thank you so much! Glad you liked it!  
**Ilive:** 3 times? Haha. That's a lot. I read it so many times while editing it that I love it to pieces but never want to look at it again...which made it a pain to write this chapt!  
**Lessthan13:** You're back! Haha. I should scroll up and add this to the last review...but...I'm lazy. Don't feel bad; I ditched Stats to update this chapt. While writing this...I realized I'd die to see the kiss I wrote on TV. Is it sad that I like my own chapt so much I'd die to see it on TV? Batman and a gun prolly wouldn't have ended well. And added disclaimer!  
**Murmurs:** Thank you so much! Glad you liked it!  
**More:** Thank you so much. You gotta admit...it wouldn't have been the same if they had kissed sooner!  
**JB:** I know, I know. I'm sorry! Dx

Some important things!  
1. I'm on a temporary hiatus. I just got back to school...I'm trying to adjust. It isn't easy. My schedule is crazy, my Stats class is very hard...so yeah. I realize I needed to give you something and Remy's POV of the last chapt is important...so here is this chapt. I will try to update soon...but no promises.  
2. This story is not close to being over! I may be slow, but you'll probably be bombarded with chapts come break...if I don't have homework. I still have a lot in my head for this story. It will be M rated and if it took me 24 chapts to get to a kiss...just imagine how long you'll be waiting for sex.  
3. I just feel like I must say...y'all can feel real fear if the characters lives are in danger. No one in this story is guaranteed life except Batman. I could totally find a way to kill someone important and keep the story going.  
4. Sorry if quality declines for awhile. Like I said...school is hard. But I will try to get chapts written. But it could only be one a month for awhile...and I'm sorry.  
5. Do you want the next chapt to be Cam's or still Rem's?

* * *

**Remy's POV (Flashback):**

_"Just go back to the fucking bedroom!" you holler, unable to believe how Cameron is just standing there. Then again, she's probably in shock. You're close enough to being in shock and you weren't even the one playing Joe's game. "Call the police and lock the door!" You press your knee further into Joe's stomach and hold back a cry as he grabs your injured arm. You've pinned him with his back on the couch, one of his legs hanging off the side. You have one hand grasping for the gun and the other trying to prevent him from injuring you._

_Much to whatever feelings of relief you can muster, Cameron turns and darts back towards the bedroom door. You feel less concern now that she's out of harm's way. If you die, it won't matter. Your life isn't worth very much anyway. _

"_Why do you care so much? Not like she's yours anyways," Joe grunts, trying to shove you off of him. He holds up a hand to block a punch you throw at him, but you strike him in the jaw anyway. "You bitch!"_

_His insult only spurs you on. You steady yourself with one foot on the floor and make another grab for the gun. This time you get a firm grip on the cold metal. It feels so wrong to touch. You shouldn't be in this position where you're forced to even be near a gun right now. The thought makes the weapon feel almost like it's sending shocks up and down your arm but you refuse to let go. You realize if you could get it out of his grasp, you could end it all in self-defense. Is it worth it though? Is Cameron really worth shooting and possibly killing someone over?_

_You don't know, but you have a feeling you're about to find out. "Let go!" you snarl, both of you freezing to stare at the gun in both yours and his hands._

_He chuckles and shakes his head. "You really expect me to let go just because you told me to?" he asks. He keeps a tight hold on the gun with one hand and uses the other to trail his fingers from your cheek and down toward your breasts. "You just might be the only person prettier than she is."_

_He seems distracted by you and you take the opportunity to knee him hard in the groin. He cries out and lets go of the gun just long enough for you to snatch it from his hand and jump off of him._

_You should feel powerful but instead you feel almost like a child. Your hands are quivering as you grip the gun and point it at him, taking a few steps back. "Don't move," you warn him, waiting for the sound of the police running toward your apartment door._

"_You wouldn't really shoot me," Joe comments calmly with a smirk. "I don't think you have it in you." He gets to his feet and opens his arms wide._

"_Sit back down!" you threaten, placing a finger on the trigger. Right now, he poses no threat. You have every reason to shoot him, but you can't while he just stands there._

"_Feisty," he comments with a chuckle. "I don't think you can do anything though. I could go back there and fuck Allison senseless and you'd never have the courage to stand up for her." He takes a few steps to the side. "You'd never-"_

_A few steps toward where Cameron is hiding is all the reason you need. No longer thinking straight, you pull the trigger and shut your eyes. The gun makes a loud noise and is followed by strangled groan from Joe. Everything suddenly feels like it's going in slow motion. You don't want to look at him, but you need to make sure he's down and isn't going to make anymore advances toward Cameron. Biting back tears, you open your eyes._

_Joe falls back onto the couch, his hand on his shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers. He stares at you in shock._

"_You keep the hell away from her," you whisper, trying to keep your voice free of emotion. It's hard though because it hits you that if he would had shot at Cameron one more time, she'd be dead on your floor. For a second the thought doesn't even feel real, but it slowly sinks in. If you hadn't tackled him, he would have shot Cameron in the head. "You fucking bastard."_

_You hear the sirens outside and within a matter of seconds there are footsteps running down the hall. The door flies open without warning and three policemen step inside with guns. "Lower your weapon, Ma'am," one of them warns you, turning his own gun to point it at you._

_You quickly drop the gun to the floor and hold your hands up slightly, trying to keep your fear at bay. If one more person points a fucking gun at you, you may just burst into tears. Even being held at gunpoint by the patient at the hospital wasn't as terrifying as this. But back then, you wanted to die up until the point where you were seconds away from it. You don't want to die anymore._

"_We received a call from this number earlier stating that you received a threat, is that correct?" another one of the men asks._

_The only thing you can do is nod your head._

"_Is this the man who called?" the same guy questions you._

_You nod again._

"_Sir, you're under arrest…"_

_You tune out the rest, just trying to focus on not crying. You're shaking uncontrollably and you want Cameron. It frightens you that you've become so attached to her that you want her to comfort you. It makes you feel weak and being weak frustrates you. She's already hurt you once and risking that happening again isn't something you're sure you can risk that pain again._

"_One of us will be back in less than an hour to get this situation straightened out," one of the men snaps you from your thoughts. They have Joe handcuffed and they're walking him out the door. _

_You're surprised they don't take you with them as you watch them leave. You did shoot someone after all. Then again, you probably look enough like a mess; standing there near tears in your nightgown, that they probably trust you to stay put. The door shuts and you press your palms hard against your eyes as your chest heaves with a few silent sobs. It takes you almost two minutes to pull yourself together before walking down the hall to tell Cameron it's alright to come out._

_You're afraid to see her. You're afraid, that as soon as she opens the doors, you're going to launch yourself into her arms and start crying. Most of all, you're afraid she'd reject you if you did that. It's always easier to reject someone before they have the change to reject you first. You stop at your bedroom door and hesitantly knock. "Allison?" you ask, your voice slightly strangled and just above a whisper._

_The door opens so quickly, you nearly jump back. "Rem," she whispers, her voice hoarse from yelling and crying. It sounds like your name is the only thing she can even manage to get out._

"_I shot him in the shoulder," you blurt out, unable to get your voice any louder than a whisper. You clench your jaw and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to provide yourself with some sort of comfort. "I think you should leave now." You try to sound distant because you don't want her to leave. The last few days have finally slapped you in the face and you want her to hold you, but you're supposed to be the one comforting her. "The police took him. You can go home now. They'll come question you at your house."_

_Her face contorts in anguish. "Don't do this," she begs you, her voice cracking. "Everything is- Everything is spinning out of control. Please, don't do this." Tears start filling her eyes again and her jaw begins to tremble. "Remy, pl-"_

"_I shot someone for you!" you shout, needing her to just leave. You try to catch your breath and quickly lower your voice again. "I pulled the trigger on someone for you, but he was right." You're dying. Why would she want someone dying other than to try to 'fix' them? What if that was the real reason she was here instead of with Chase? "I hear what people say about you. It only makes sense you're here because you think I need you. Well, I just fucking shot someone for you. I don't need any of this!" You're not sure how much you could have gone on like this anyway. It hurts constantly denying that you feel something for her because you don't want to scare her and she has a boyfriend._

_She covers her mouth with her hands to muffle a sob. "I don't," she chokes. "No, it's not like that, Remy!" She shakes her head, causing her brown locks to fall in front of her pale, tearstained face and you fight to urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. "Remy, I swear. I'll- I'll prove it to you!"_

_Her words sound pathetically earnest and you want to believe her. You want to believe that just maybe she isn't out to hurt you. "Yeah?" you ask, using sarcasm as a mechanism of self-defense incase she does really hurt you. Sarcasm is one of the best ways to protect yourself against vulnerability. "And how are you going to do that?"_

_She takes a step forward and shoves you back against the wall. Your damaged wrist is slightly jostled and as it hits the wall ever so slightly, it becomes engulfed in so much pain you have to bite down on your tongue to prevent yourself from crying out. "If you would have shut up while that guy was pointing a gun at my face, you'd already know!" she yells at you._

_By now, you can't even get your chin to stop quivering. Your chest physically aches with the need to just let go and break down. "I was trying to save your life!" you yell back, trying desperately to prove yourself to her._

"_And I was trying to tell you I love you incase you failed!" Her grip tightens on her upper arms and she's practically digging her nails into your skin. _

_Your eyes widen and you gasp before the words even process. The shock you're in intensifies and she continues talking before her previous statement even starts to sink in._

"_I was scared to tell you," she states quietly. "But since I obviously just put you through hell and I don't blame you for kicking me out, I thought you should know how I feel," she continues. "Telling you would only be half of how I feel! You want to know how I really feel?!"_

_The fact that she loves you still hasn't hit you yet. It seems too surreal. No one has ever fallen in love with you before and it would have been a shock if someone ever did. But now the person you love loves you back and it just doesn't seem possible. Cameron does loves you though. You stare at her with your mouth agape, absolutely stunned by this. She told you she loves you and now there's more? How much more can there be?! "Yes," you finally manage to give out and nod your head. You try to seem confident and in control but you know you're failing. Even if she hurt you before, you've never felt so safe on the verge of breaking down in front of someone before._

_She swallows and takes a deep breath then looks away from you for a moment. She seems to be considering something and it scares you as to what that something could be. There's going to be a 'but'; you can feel it. There's going to be an 'I love you, but', because that's just how your life works. You scrunch up your face as you try to hold back sobs and turn away from her, unable to look at her anymore. You're exhausted both mentally and physically and your arm is killing you. The feeling of her warm hands on your cheeks is enough to make you want to just melt into her embrace. You're still unsure of what she's going to do or what she wants from you._

_She straightens up so she's more at your level then leans forward and lets her lips brush against yours. It takes a moment to comprehend Cameron is kissing you. She's delicate and gentle with you as if one wrong move might break you. It's a feeling you've never experienced before and you gasp as it sends chills up your spine. Your shoulders start shaking with repressed sobs and the tears finally begin flowing because you realize she's trying to comfort you and not hurt you. You slowly slide your good hand into her hair and twist the locks around your fingers as you find the emotional strength to kiss her back. It's sweeter than you ever dreamed. You choke back a sob, overwhelmed now by the feeling she gives you. Never in your life have you felt so much for someone that it made your heart physically ache. She soothingly caresses your cheeks with her thumbs and presses her lips to yours in a kiss that makes your heart skip multiple beats._

_Her tongue slides across your lower lips and causes you to cry harder, everything from the past few days (or maybe everything since you found out you were dying) leaking out in the form of tears. You part your lips and allow her to deepen the kiss, trying to absorb whatever comfort and adoration she has for you. Allowing yourself to be broken in front of her seems like more than enough to show your trust and love for her until she pulls away._

_She stands up even straighter and leans her forehead against yours. "I'll go," she whispers._

_Even though your eyes are still closed, you can feel her staring at you. Her gaze is practically burning a hole through you. Your chest hurts at the thought of losing her again. "Don't go," murmur in a strained voice, trying to find the right words. "I thought- I thought…he was going." It's hard to speak and choke back sobs at the same time so you finally just let go.. "I thought I'd lost you. Please, just don't go."_


	26. Chapter 26

**JB:** Sorry that you felt cheated. It felt like it was better putting up that than nothing though. Cause then you woulda been waiting until now for a new chapt. And honest reviews are perfectly okay with me.  
**Esuedros:** I don't think I'll be leaving this story behind for a new one. Minus oneshots, this will be the last Cadley fic that I write. Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Nameless:** Well, my impatient child, here you go! Finally an update so you will stop bugging me! -giggles- ILU. And now instead of Stats...I should be doing Civ. Gr. But I read over 100 pages today...so I think it's all good.  
**Eva:** Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Amazon:** No, it's definitely my fault we haven't talked lately. School has devoured my life. The only free time I get...I seemed to be whisked away by someone. Glad you liked Remy's POV!  
**Melissa:** I think I liked Cam's pov better...but maybe that's just 'cause I wrote it first. Now I have this Blue's Clues image if you jumping into my story. xD  
**YDPP: **Eh...I doubt she'll be emotionally scarred for the rest of her life. I mean...it's not like she killed the guy and it was out of defense.  
**Lessthan13: **Rabidnarphobia? Omw...Rabidnarphobia would so be my word of the day if PlushPanda didn't already invent Plush-dar for me. Maybe I need two words of the day!  
**Writing:** Thank you so much! I'm glad you like it!  
**Shan:** Stats is totally overrated...especially that test today. My prof looks like a garden gnome...so now...if I daydream about SF in class, I daydream about Kutner crushing him. xD  
**Ilessthree:** I'm glad you liked it! Yes, I will be making you wait forever. Lol.  
**Ilive:** Stats is evil. See above garden gnome reply to Shan. Ha. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Lessthan13:** I can deal with this pattern. It makes me look more popular. -wink- Glad you liked the kiss. I had fun writing it...from both POVs. I had to wait 24 chapts to be able to write the perfect kiss. It was a killer wait for me too. Lol.  
**Ina:** Bad day? -frown- I hope things are going better for you!  
**More:** Thanks for the suggestion!  
**Don:** You had a Rabidnar-marathon? Awesome. xD Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Meva:** Well, I think we all despise rape. It's an awful thing. But...awful things often make for gripping stories, imo. Glad you decided to read it. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Charmed: **I'm glad you like it. I can't promise a lack of 'scenes' to come tho. Cause well...there will be more kissing and eventually things will be focused for awhile on Cam feeling comfortable enough with Remy to take it beyond that. Glad you like it...and that you like Batman. =]

I hope I didn't miss anyone. It's pretty late and I'm getting ready to collapse.  
Sorry it took so long to update! I'm been swamped between school work, attempting to have a social life, and now I'm involved with Wilde For World (Feel free to message me or look at my profile if you wanna know more about that! It's amazing!)  
Anyway...a lot of the general ideas in this chapt (especially toward the end) come from my RP with PlushPanda (who is awesome to cowrite with!!!). I'd ramble more about that, but she might lovingly beat me up. xD But anyway...we co-thought a bunch of little things I added in.  
Remy's pov won out...so here's another one from her perspective.

* * *

**Remy's POV: **

You wait for her to state she's decided to leave. It becomes apparent in your mind that you've somehow managed to fuck up again and chase her away. It's probably because your tough-guy look has completely crumpled. Sure, you shot a guy for her, but that was then and this is now. Silent sobs rack your body, leaving you feeling emotionally naked with all of your feelings on complete display.

It feels like she's playing with your heart. She kissed you and then told you she was leaving. You can't believe all the walls you built up over the years were stripped down so quickly to the point where you actually pleaded with her to stay. Doesn't she see that you want her? Maybe you just don't have enough of yourself left to give to someone like Cameron. The worst part is, even though you want her to stay, you really just need her to be with whoever makes her happy.

"I - I have t-to…" You motion toward the living room as you try to stop crying long enough to form words. You're not even sure what you have to do first. Your couch is stained with blood and you just want to get it out of your apartment as soon as possible. Then again, the police are coming and you should get dressed. Your arm is also engulfed in so much pain that you're sure an entire bottle of painkillers couldn't even make it feel better. Lifting your good hand to hide your face, you turn and attempt to escape but she puts her arms out to stop you. You're trapped against the wall again and you lean back against it, slowly sliding so you're sitting on the floor. Keeping your hand over your face, you subtly glance up at Cameron.

"I th-thought you wanted me to g-go," Cameron whispers, dropping one hand to her side and making the other a fist in front of her mouth. "Remy, I…" Her voice trails ago and she sobs quietly a few times against her hand. Shaking her head, she kneels down in front of you in between your legs. "Look at me," she pleads, gently prying your hand away from your face. "Are you okay?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you choke, letting your hand fall to your side. You carefully rest your injured arm on your lap, trying to keep it from being jostled too much. You don't know what to say to her. There's so much the two of you need to talk about that you don't even know where to start. Sniffling quietly, you stare at the floor, unable to meet her eyes. As you wait for her to answer on whether or not she's okay, you slowly stroke your arm just where the cloth ends with the tips of your fingers.

"Let me look, Rem," she says quietly and carefully slides a hand under your wrist. "I'll be gentle," she promises, slowly starting to unwrap it.

You watch until she starts to uncover a bruise in the shape of Joe's hand and then you can't look anymore. Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes and lean your head back against the wall. The two of you should have never even taken the day off. This might not have happened if you had both been at work. You feel her finish unwrapping your wrist, but she doesn't do anything to it after that. For several seconds, you think she's just examining it without touching it, but the looking goes on for far too long. "What?" you ask quietly, slowly opening your eyes.

"Wha-?" Cameron can't seem to form words. "I…Do you realize how dangerous this is?!" she whispers in a strained voice.

When you look at her, her eyes are wide in horror and her mouth is slightly agape. You quickly glance down at your arm, staring in mortification as you finally remember the cuts you carved into yourself. The '13' looks particularly red and swollen, making you sure it'll probably scar like that. You suddenly realize why you put the '13' there to begin with; to avoid moments like this. You pull your arm back to hide it, but you know it's too late.

"Remy, what did you _do_?" she whispers, shaking her head. She grabs your arm by the elbow and pulls it back toward herself, slowly tracing one of the cuts with her finger. "My God, Remy, why did you-"

"I need a drink," you cut her off with the first thing that comes to mind. You had been wrong when a few minutes ago you didn't think you could feel anymore ashamed of yourself. It suddenly slips your mind that the police will be back. You just need to drink whatever liquor you own and get away from everything for a moment. When you attempt to stand, Cameron grabs the back of your nightgown and yanks you back down to the floor. "Are you trying to sprain my tailbone too?" you snap, narrowing your eyes at her. "Let go."

"A drink is the last thing you need," she says quietly, keeping a tight grip on the back of your nightgown. She doesn't seem angry like you expect her to be. It's nearly impossible to read her emotions, but she definitely doesn't seem mad at you. "Why didn't you talk to me?" Tears are coursing her cheeks and she tries to look you in the eye, unashamed that she's crying.

"Let go," you repeat, though you don't know the point anymore. She's already figured out your strength is usually just one big mask. How were you supposed to talk to her with everything going on? Though who were you kidding? You would've never talked to her about it anyway. You furiously rub at your eyes and try to escape her firm grip on you. "Cameron, let me up," you hiss through your teeth, reaching behind you to pry her hand off your nightgown. Her grip is too tight but you attempt to get up anyway.

"Stop it," Cameron warns you. She sits down fully and pulls you sideways against her, intertwining your legs with one of hers. She lets go of your nightgown but before you can attempt to escape her, she wraps her arms around you. "Is that really what you want, Rem?" she whispers, pressing her lips against your ear. "Because you're not putting up a very good fight."

"Because I'm tired." Your voice is supposed to go up a few octaves but instead comes out in a mumble. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you squeeze your eyes shut. You sniffle and drop your hand back down to your lap then open your eyes and turn your head to look at her. You just _shot_ someone! You have no idea what you want or what you deserve. You want to tell her that but it seems selfish to focus on your own problems when she's worse off than you are.

There's a knock on the door and you both jump, Cameron more so than you. Her grip on you tightens and she immediately hides her face against your shoulder, shaking with silent sobs.

"We have to get up," you inform her, slowly rubbing circles between her shoulder blades with your good hand. It's illogical, but you're afraid it's going to be Joe at the door and you're sure she's feeling the same way. "I can't move until you do." You glance toward the living room, not quite ready to face the police. You'd rather spend the rest of the day in the hall with Cameron.

She disentangles your legs but waits a moment before unwrapping her arms from around you. Her chin quivers as she lifts her head and wipes at her eyes with shaky hands. Her nose is running and her face is red and splotchy from crying and you're sure you look nearly identical. Another hard knock on the door causes her to jump again.

"It's okay," you whisper. You feel like a hypocrite trying to comfort her while your heart feels like it's about to beat right out of your chest. "It's just the police." Rubbing at your own face, she slowly get to your feet. "Come on," you try to convince her, reaching your good hand down to help her up.

Cameron glances up at you then takes your hand and lets you pull her to her feet. She laces her fingers with yours and follows you to the door. You're a few feet away from it when she notices the couch cushion and comes to a halt, staring silently at the blood.

"I haven't had a chance to get rid of it yet," you explain, unable to look without feeling sick to your stomach. As a doctor, the sight of blood is the last thing that should bother you, but seeing it on your couch and knowing what it's from revolts you. You let go of her hand and walk to the door, peering through the peephole at the man in uniform. Gathering your courage, you slowly turn the knob and pull the door open. It makes a screeching noise and sounds ready to fall off the hinges, most likely from being crashed into and then flung open by the police.

"Officer Manzano," the man introduces himself immediately, grabbing his badge from the pocket of his shirt and flipping it open to prove his identity to you. "I'm here to take your statement."

You step to the side and let him in then close the door behind him. Glancing at Cameron, you realize she's still distracted by the blood. "Allison," you say quietly, taking a few steps toward her.

Cameron flinches and looks down at the floor. She rubs at her arm then quickly crosses her arms tightly across her chest and glances up at Officer Manzano. "I'll talk first," she offers, seeming to be attempting to distract herself.

Officer Manzano grabs a small notebook and pen from his pocket then nods his head at her.

-----

It takes a little over two hours for everything to be said and clarified. You feel like you repeated the same things twenty times and keeping your patience wasn't easy. Officer Manzano ended up sitting on your recliner and even though it was unprofessional, Cameron was slouched against your side. You have an arm wrapped around her by the time you feel you've stated all the facts, afraid she'll fall over if you let go. She looks like she can barely keep her eyes open.

"I would advise you both to contact your lawyers," the officer states as he finally gets to his feet. "Make sure you're in contact with someone who can defend you if he pleads non-guilty and charges you with assault."

You stare at him blankly for a moment, not comprehending his words. "Charges _us_ for assault?" you ask disbelievingly, shaking your head slowly.

"You did shoot him in the shoulder," Manzano reminds you. "It looks like you have nothing to worry about though. I'll be in touch. In the mean time, take care of yourselves." He nods at the two of you then makes his way to the door.

"Thank you." You try to sound sincere but you're too drained to put much emotion in your voice. Your eyes follow him out the door until he shuts it behind him then you glance down at Cameron. "You need to go to bed." You're not sure what time it even is, but that doesn't matter. You're both exhausted. "I'll be there soon, okay?"

She's still for a moment then slowly nods her head. "I'm going to get some water first." She straightens herself up and rubs at her eyes then heads toward the kitchen.

Your main goal before turning in for the night is getting your couch out of your apartment. It doesn't feel like enough to just dispose of the pillow. You watch Cameron disappear into the kitchen then walk to the door and open it. Assuming no one cut a hole through the wall to put the couch in your apartment to begin with, you figure it should fit out the door.

"Remy, why were the police here?!" Rebecca exclaims, walking quickly down the hall toward your door. "I got home and there was a cop car out front!"

Scowling, you turn your back to her. The only person you want to be around right now is Cameron. Thinking if you ignore Rebecca, she might go away, you walk over to your couch and flip the cushion so the blood is no longer visible. "You might want to move," you comment, glancing back to see her stand in your doorway. Unable to push the couch with both arms, you put all your strength into pushing it with your side and shoulder. It slides a few inches and leaves you quickly exhausted and out of breath. "Mother-fucking son of a bitch," you hiss under your breath.

Rebecca stares at you in silence then lets herself in your apartment and walks over to and the couch. "Move over," she says, nodding at you.

You step to the side so she has room to help. You lean sideways against the couch again and she leans forward to push it with her hands. The two of you manage to turn it relatively easily then slide it to the door. "I'm taking it out for the garbage man," you comment as you slide it into the hall, letting her know it isn't just going to be sitting outside your door.

"If that's what you want," she answers simply, giving you a wary glance. "Are you okay?"

You don't answer, tired of talking. Grunting quietly, you push all your weight against the couch, nearly falling when it moves. It's hard to imagine yourself feeling so weak that Rebecca is stronger than you and easily pushing the couch toward the exit. Your chest starts to feel tight from the overexertion and once you get the couch outside, you stop and let her push it to the curb.

The blasts of cold air that hit you are painful against the bare skin on your arms and legs. You curl your toes against the frozen ground, realizing you don't even have shoes on. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean forward with you good hand on one of your knees and try to catch your breath. As soon as you start wheezing, you straighten up and drag yourself back inside, leaving Rebecca to deal with the couch.

Cameron is just coming out of the kitchen when you walk in. "Remy, what's wrong?" she asks immediately, shutting the door behind you and sliding an arm around you as she follows you on your hasty walk back to the bedroom. Her eyes widen slightly when you start coughing.

You don't have the willpower to ask her to just leave you alone right now. The coughing worsens and you turn your head away from her, afraid you'll be restricting air to your lungs if you cover your mouth. "I'm okay," you assure her even though you're gasping for air by the time you reach the doorway of your room. You walk inside then slowly sit down onto the bed and lean forward.

"Remy, no, you're not," she says in a serious tone, placing one hand on your arm and the other on your lower back. Her hand starts rubbing small circles on your lower back. "You sound like you're having an asthma attack." She rubs her hand up and down your arm, the friction warming you up a bit.

"I am," you mumbled between gasps. Your inhaler is in the nightstand right next to your bed but you can't move to retrieve it. Tears begin to sting your eyes due to how much your coughing and you attempt to lean forward further but Cameron catches you by the shoulder and forces you to sit up straight.

"Do you have an inhaler?" she asks calmly, moving her hand from your arm to your chest. She lets her hand rest where she can feel your racing heart. You expect your mind to travel to her hand going a bit lower, but the only thing you can think about it trying to get oxygen.

"Nightstand," you choke out, squeezing your eyes shut as sudden, sharp pains begin to tear at your lungs with every struggled inhalation. "Fuck," you whisper, rocking yourself slowly to stay calm. You feel Cameron leave your side and hear her start rustling through your nightstand, even though the sound of your wheezing nearly drowns out that of her going through your things. She grabs your good hand and places the inhaler in it, quickly curling your fingers around it so you don't drop it.

You shake the piece of plastic then gratefully bring it to your mouth and let the medicine fill your restricted airway as you press down on the pump. It barely helps the first time and after a few moments you're forced to use it again. Cameron returns to your side and begins rubbing your back between your shoulder blades. The medicine slowly begins to take effect and your breathing slows, but instead of putting the inhaler back, you lower your hand to your lap and keep a tight hold on it.

"Do you want some hot tea or something warm?" Cameron asks. She stops rubbing you back and kneels on the bed then props up some of the pillows. She sounds calm and composed, but when you look back at her you notice her hands are shaking slightly.

"No," you answer in a hoarse voice then clear your throat. The inhaler might get lost if you fall asleep with it in your hand so you reluctantly reach over and place it on your nightstand where you'll be able to grab it if you need it. Your chest is still a bit tight and you let your hand rest up near your throat as you focus on breathing slowly. "Are you okay?"

"As okay as I can be," she answers, pulling the blankets back. "Maybe you should change into something warmer."

"Right." You're freezing from being outside, but you're unsure if your shaking is from cold or the medicine making your quivery. Knees weak as you get to your feet, you steady yourself with a hand on the bed for a moment before walking over to your closet. "We need to buy a new couch," you comment as you open the door, trying to make small talk to calm your nerves. "Do you want to go looking after work tomorrow?" You begin to wonder if either of you will even be able to get yourselves up in the morning to go to work tomorrow. Picking out clothes has never been something that takes you a particularly long time, but you find yourself staring blankly into your closet.

"If you want to," she answers. "It's probably bad for us to keep ourselves locked up at home."

You nod in agreement and finally grab a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants from your clothes. It's not like home is any safer than anywhere else now. You pull your nightgown up over your head and toss it on the floor, keeping your back to Cameron. "We can drag Kutner with us," you suggest, figuring that might make both of you feel safer. "I don't think Taub will want to go furniture shopping." You pull the sweatshirt over your head then put your pants on and turn to face her.

"Neither will Kutner," she answers, rubbing at her eyes. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "But he _likes_ you, so he'll go."

"You're not going to let that go, are you?" you ask, breathing a quiet laugh of amusement then trying not to cringe at the discomfort in your chest. "It doesn't matter if he likes me," you inform her as you walk over to the bed and sit down beside her. "Because," you explain, pulling her closer to you with your good arm, "I like _you_."

"Mm." Cameron snuggles into your embrace, letting her head rest on your shoulder. She looks exhausted enough to fall asleep right there and then. "I think we've already established that I like you back," she mumbles.

"Have we?" you reply, burying your face against her hair before realizing you can't breathe that way and being forced to pull back. "Whatever feelings you have for Wilson are making me insecure," you tease, managing a slight smirk.

"Don't be a smartass," she grumbles, shooting you a scolding look. She reaches up and tucks your hair behind your ear then lowers herself down against the pillows. "Are you okay enough to lie down?"

You nod once then slowly lower yourself down beside her. It's a bit harder to breathe, but you try not to let on that you're struggling. You watch as Cameron closes her eyes then let your eyes fall shut also.

-----

"_You wanna play Russian Roulette, Allison?!" Joe yells as he pushes the gun hard against Cameron's forehead. _

_You stand a few feet away and stare helplessly as Cameron repeatedly cries the word 'no' and struggles to get away. Somehow you need to get the gun away from him, but you're terrified he'll shoot her if you approach him. _

"_Shut the fuck up!" Joe yells at her, his nails digging into her arm. "Shut up before I pull the fucking trigger!"_

_The terror you have is overwhelming and staying calm is nearly impossible. "Cameron," you say slowly, trying to keep your voice controlled and not let on top what you're feeling. "Listen to him before he pulls the damn trigger." _

_She looks completely horrified; even worse than how she looked the night she had been brought into the hospital after he raped her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clamps her hands over her mouth as if she needs them there to keep her from yelling. Sobs wrack her body and she suddenly grips the front of the shirt she's wearing and tugs it up over her mouth and nose. At first you're confused by the motion, but you quickly realize she's trying to get comfort out of something even as little as your scent. You fight the urge to rush over to her and wrap her protectively in your arms, because that could get both of you killed._

_Joe glances back and forth between the two of you then smirks and pulls the trigger. There's a loud bang and all you see is blood before everything goes black._

You snap awake with a gasp, opening your eyes and scrambling into a sitting position. It takes a moment before you realize you're in your bedroom. The fear engulfing you fades slightly but your chest is tight again and you fumble around on the nightstand until you find your inhaler. Bringing it to your lips, you glance over at the clock and press down on the pump as you inhale as deeply as possible. You're not sure what time you went to bed, but it's nearly one in the morning. Coughing, you exhale and put the inhaler back then look over at Cameron.

Cameron looks like she's sleeping relatively peacefully for once. She moved a few inches away from you sometime while you were both sleeping and is stretched out on her stomach with one hand up near her face and the other sprawled out to the side.

Letting out a slow breath, you wipe some of the cold sweat from your forehead then reach over to wake her. Your quivering hand hovers a few inches above her shoulder but you decide to just let her sleep. She looks completely relaxed and you don't have the heart to wake her up. Now is a good time to break into your stash of alcohol anyway.

Trying not to move the bed too much, you scoot over to the side then get to your feet and sneak out of the room. All of the lights are still on because you had neglected to turn them off before you went to bed. It makes you feel safer to be able to see everything around you without having to flip a switch and be in fear of surprise.

Walking into the kitchen, you groan upon seeing a puddle on the floor and Batman hiding under the table with his tail between his legs. It's not like you can be angry at him or blame him though since it's your fault no one took him out before you went to bed. Not in the mood for cleaning, you grab a wad of paper towels and drop them on the ground then turn your back to the dog and open the cupboard you usually keep the liquor in.

"What the fuck?" you mumble to the bare cupboard and narrow your eyes. There were definitely bottles of alcohol in there last time you checked. What kind, you weren't sure, but there had definitely been liquor in the cupboard. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you turn and come to a halt as you notice the empty bottles near the sink. Fortunately, you're too tired to be as pissed off as you should be or you might storm down the hall and start yelling at Cameron. She was the only way this could have happened.

Silently fuming, you sulk to the refrigerator and open it then pull out a jug of water. It makes a loud thump as you half toss it on the kitchen table and Batman scurries into the living room. Not bothering to comfort the damn dog, you open the freezer for ice cubes. Instead of grabbing ice cubes though, you find yourself pulling out a full gallon of chocolate peanut butter ice cream. It's not even close to alcohol, but it's at least better than water. Abandoning the water on the table, you grab a spoon from your silverware drawer then make your way into the living room and collapse onto your recliner.

"Life fucking sucks," you inform Batman as he leaps up onto the chair with you. "You're lucky you're a dog." You pull the lid off the ice cream and toss it on the coffee table then dig your spoon into it and work on devouring it. Realization that cold is one of the worst things for asthma tugs at the back of your mind, but you keep eating, possibly trying to make yourself feel worse as a punishment for breaking down in front of Cameron.

-----

Unlike alcohol, ice cream leaves you still feeling empty. Halfway through the gallon, you're starting to get nauseas and cold, but you're desperate to feel full and comforted. Breathing has become a slight challenge again and you're making a quiet wheezing noise every time you inhale. Batman started to beg after your first few bites and he's becoming hard to resist. With a frustrated sigh, you dip your finger into the ice cream then let him lick it off.

"Remy, what are you doing?" Cameron scolds, walking into the living room. She squints at you in a half asleep manner and tilts her head to the side.

"Eating," you answer, grabbing your spoon again and shoving more ice cream in your mouth to avoid talking. You glance up at her and take in her disheveled appearance, wishing you felt well enough to fully enjoy how adorable she looks.

"Did the two of you eat all of that?" she answers, shaking her head and walking over. "You're going to make yourself sick." She crosses her arms impatiently and attempts to stare you down.

"Vodka would do the same," you mumble, scooping up another spoonful. After a moment of just staring at it, you lift your arm and hold the spoon up near her mouth.

She seems to watch the uneven rise and fall of your chest for a second then narrows her eyes at you. "Do you _want_ to be rushed to the hospital?" she asks, trying to sound angry but failing. "Go put the ice cream away."

"You know you want some," you answer, continuing to hold the spoon in front of her mouth.

"I'm allergic to peanut butter," she states, staring at the ice cream.

"You're a liar," you accuse. "You eat peanut butter with Wilson for lunch all the time now."

When she narrows her eyes at you again, you arch a brow and shrug your shoulders, still offering her the ice cream.

"I'm putting it away," she states before leaning forward and eating the ice cream. Licking chocolate off her lips, she grabs the spoon and carton from you then takes a few bites as she carries it back out to the kitchen.

"Figures," you murmur, glancing over at Batman. You sink back against the chair cushion and let your head lull to the side, waiting for her to come back and lecture you about eating so much ice cream.

Cameron comes back in the room carrying a glass of water, a clean spoon, and a bottle of Nyquil.

"You don't feel well?" you ask, furrowing your brows as you study the Nyquil bottle.

"I feel fine," she answers, putting the water on the table before uncapping the bottle. "You don't have any sleeping pills in your medicine cabinet."

"You were in my medicine cabinet?" you ask a bit too quickly, immediately looking up at her. You curse not thinking before you reacted and look away from her again, waiting for the lecture on Ecstasy too.

"Yes," she replies. "Multiple times." She crouches in front of you and pours the Nyquil on the tablespoon and holds it close to your mouth. "Open."

You stare at her, shocked she didn't bring of the pills. As curious as you are, you're not going to risk letting her know about them if she somehow didn't see them. "I'm fine without sleep. I don't need Nyquil," you inform her, wrinkling your nose at the medicine. "It's gross."

"You're tired," Cameron argues, frowning at you. "You'll sleep the rest of the night if you take it. I'm not letting you sit out here and eat us out of house and home. Open."

"I ate too much," you tell her, trying to sound pathetic. "I'll throw up if I put anymore in my stomach." You glance at her with a pitiful look but she doesn't seem to be backing down.

"Then I'll get you a bucket. Take the medicine," she demands, keeping her voice firm but soft. She holds the spoon to your lips and arches a brow in the same manner you did when you were trying to feed her ice cream.

Scowling, you lean forward and swallow the medicine from the spoon then scrunch up your face in disgust.

Cameron carefully pulls the spoon from your mouth and puts it on the table with the medicine. She picks up Batman and kisses his head then places him on the ground and sits on the chair beside you. Leaning forward, she grabs the glass of water then hands it to you.

"Why are you even awake?" you ask then rub your tongue against the roof of your mouth in attempts to get rid of the disgusting taste. The glass feels warm and you just hold it for a few seconds before you take a few sips of the water, scrunching up your face in disgust when you realize it's hot. It helps with the wheezing and tightness in your chest though, so you drink it slowly.

"I got scared," she answers, leaning to the side and reclining the chair. "I started dreaming and you weren't there when I woke up."

"Sorry." You glance away from her in guilt. You think about telling her you got scared too but the words never leave your mouth. Covering your mouth with your arm, you cough a few times then lean forward and place the empty glass back on the table before lying down beside her.

"Don't worry about it." She turns sideways and props her head up with one hand then uses the other to remove stray strands of hair from in front of your face. The two of you fall into silence as she plays with your hair until you get drowsy enough that your eyelids begin to droop.

"Do I get to kiss you goodnight?" she asks, tilting her head to the side. Her hand stops grooming your hair and she traces her fingers down the side of your face to your jaw before pulling it away.

"I taste like Nyquil now," you murmur in a groggy voice, turning your head slightly to face her. You're shocked that she wants to kiss you again. The first time you semi-understand now. You were both upset. But to kiss you again means whatever relationship you've formed definitely means something.

She hovers over you and tenderly presses her lips to yours, eliciting a quiet humming noise from you. She pulls back and rests her head on your shoulder. Her arms wrap tightly around you and she intertwines your legs.

Your breath catches in your throat, this time from the kiss, but you're too tired to put much thought into it. Letting your eyes fall closed, you drape your injured arm over her in a loose embrace and fall back to sleep.


	27. Chapter 27

**Nameless: **You don't win. I have other ways of tormenting you with this story. Remember...the only character guaranteed life is Batman. I plan on adding reactions from the co-workers next chapt. I /always/ want icecream.  
**Shan:** Haha. My RP w/ Plush pwns. It forces me to seek out my inner-fluff. xD And thank you.  
**JB: **Nope. Haven't given up on it and don't plan to! I'm just really really busy with school. I have 2 papers due on March 4th...and I've only started one of them bc I had 3 essays due today and a 500 page book that had to be read by last week. And yeah. And now I might join Curling, so..ahhhh! But! My break is March 5 - 14...so...if I'm not busy, you'll be bombarded with updates! Nyquil flavoured icecream? Ewwww. xDDDD  
**Anonymous:** Well, this chapt is slightly fluffy...and the next is slightly fluffy...Dunno about after that yet.  
**Charmed: **Bahaha. If Cam would have drank all the booze, she prolly woulda been too drunk to even check on Remy. I was implying she dumped it. I shoulda been more clear. My bad!  
**Eva: **Yeah. Cam is slowly...slowly...getting better. There'll be more of a back and forth instead of Remy only taking care of Cam now.  
**Ilessthree:** Refraining is so overrated! Lol. Well...this chapt has happy in it!  
**Lessthan13:** What's a sigfig? It reminds of me a fig newton. xDDD It's okay. I'm always thinking up new ideas during class.  
**YDPP:** Thanks so much!  
**Ilive: **Thanks so much. It seems like the work gets harder the second semester.  
**More:** Thank you so much!  
**Pink:** Ooh. Long review. Yes! No shame in crying. I feel accomplished when I make my readers cry. xD I was daydreaming about this fic 6yrs in their future today...so it'll probably be long at the slow rate I'm going. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Amazon:** Yay for WFW and being FB friends! The cutting will come up again later. Cam's not just gonna drop it forever and not watch to make sure she doesn't do it again.  
**Don:** Yay for marathons! Thanks so much for reviewing!  
**Esuedros**: Thank you so much for reviewing!  
**Miralinda:** Nah. Chase is a jerk...but he's not that much of a jerk. He likes Cameron. Thanks for reviewing!

I was gonna make them go couch shopping this chapt...but decided to wait until Remy's POV. Also...I'm not sure when I last updated my profile, but I may have typed some new notes on there. This chapt is unbeta'd...so bear with the typos. I wanted to just get it updated so I could move on w/ my school work and stop thinking about it. Oh...and the fluff in this chapt was killer to write! I was all, "The fluff...it burns!" Sorry if it's ooc...but I figured y'all could use some cuteness.

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

The clock in the living room reads 10:23 when you open your eyes. Your shift was supposed to start at 9:00. A comfortable weight on your body keeps you from sitting up and you glance down to see Remy fast asleep and half on top of you. Her warm breaths are light and even against your neck, not sounding struggled like they had been last night. Sighing quietly, you wrap your arms around her in a loose hug, letting your hands rest on the small of her back. Her shirt slid up slightly sometime during the night and you stroke her bare skin, feeling a sense of relief that you can be close to her without fear.

"Rem," you mumble in a groggy voice, gently patting her back. "We need to get up." Cuddy is probably wondering where you are and House has probably contemplated sending out a search party (aka: Kutner and Taub) since it's not like either of you to be late.

She groans quietly and slowly lifts her head, using her good hand to rub at her eyes. "We're probably already late," she murmurs automatically before curling up closer to you.

"We are," you confirm, glancing over at the clock again. On a normal day, you'd throw your clothes on and be out the door in about five minutes if you were this late for work. After a day like yesterday though, you honestly don't care. It's a struggle not to just curl back up on the chair and sleep for the rest of the day. You lean to the side and decline the chair to force her to sit up then press the palms of your hands to your eyes and try to convince yourself to wake up. "Want me to put coffee on before I get in the shower?"

She shakes her head and turns her back to you, trying to get comfortable against the chair. "I'll do it," she replies, her voice muffled by the cushion.

"You're going to go back to sleep if I get up, aren't you?" you ask, glancing over at her.

"Probably," she answers, stifling a yawn. "Which is why you should get up." She sighs and snuggles closer to the back of the chair, draping her legs over the arm of it.

Pursing your lips together as you think, you sit there and stare a moment before getting to your feet. Batman is asleep on the floor a few feet away from the chair and you walk over to him then bend down and pick him up. He nuzzles closer to you and you place a few kisses on his soft head as you carry him over to Remy. "Good luck sleeping," you comment, placing the puppy on her lap. Batman glances at her then begins squirming around, attempting to press his nose between her face and the cushion to lick her.

Remy groans and attempts to cover her head, causing Batman to begin barking excitedly at her as if they're playing a game.

Satisfied that the puppy at least makes for a good alarm clock, you leave him to deal with waking Remy and make your way back to the bathroom. You estimate that it will take about forty-five seconds for Remy to get pissed off at the dog and force herself to get up. Even though you'd like to wait around to see if your estimate is right, you don't.

On the outside, you're sure you appear relatively calm after the trauma you and Remy both went through. On the inside though, you're shaken up and trying to shove all of your emotions as deep as they'll go so you don't have to deal with them. Joe's face keeps appearing in your mind and you swear you feel him touching you even though he isn't there. Hopefully a hot shower will do you good and wash away how dirty and despicable you feel.

Once you reach the bathroom, you attempt to lock the door behind you multiple times to make sure it can't be opened. Despite the very low possibility of anyone trying to break into the house again, you still need to make sure you're safe, especially when you're vulnerable and undressed. The lock keeps sticking and as much as it upsets you, you finally give up. As you slowly pull your clothes off, you wish there was some way you could shower with them on. A cool draft of air hits your bare skin as you toss your clothing in a random direction then walk over to the shower.

At first, you turn the knob so the water is a decent temperature. After a moment, you turn it even further so it nearly scalds your hand when you test the temperature. Feeling dirty, you convince yourself that you need it that hot to make yourself clean. If it's colder, it might not wash away the feeling of Joe on you. After one last glance toward the unlocked door, you step in the shower and stand directly under the water. It burns your skin and you attempt to convince yourself that this isn't a twisted form of self-harm. If it was, you'd feel like a hypocrite for scolding Remy for cutting herself. With a washrag that was hanging in the shower, you immediately begin scrubbing mercilessly at all the places Joe touched you yesterday and the evening he hurt you.

"_I can't stop feeling him!" you sob, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as you can. Your skin feels engulfed in flames at every single place he touched you and, every few moments, you swear his hands, mouth, and every other part of his body are still on you. "I can't get the feeling off!" Crying harder, you begin to scrub at one of your shoulders, a place he bit you in his own pleasure hard enough to leave a mark. "Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" A sense of panic overwhelms you and you press yourself back hard against the shower wall, trying to escape your fear._

"Thirteen, get it off! Thirteen, get it off!" You press yourself back against the cold wall of the shower, dropping the washrag and pressing the palms of your hands to your eyes. The fear turns to a sudden burst of anger and you swipe your arm across one of the shelves, sending multiple soap and shampoo bottles clattering to the floor. Breathing heavily, you slowly lower your hands and open your eyes, shocked by your outburst.

The bathroom door flies open and the doorknob hits the wall with a loud crack. "Allison, what's wrong?" Remy asks, her voice rushed and laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

"_Allison, are you okay?" she asks as you cry your eyes out in the hospital shower. "If you don't answer, I'm going to pull the curtain."_

Mouth slightly agape, silent tears of shock begin to mingle with the steaming water that you're now standing directly under. "He was touching me," you choke, bringing your hands up to cover your face again as it contorts in anguish. Your fingers entangle in your wet bangs and your arms cover your bare chest as you slowly sink to your knees, one of your legs resting uncomfortably on a shampoo bottle. Plastic hooks scrape against a metal bar as the curtain is slowly pushed open and more light floods the shower.

"No one was touching you," Remy says slowly and turns off the shower water. She kneels down beside the shower and places a hand on the back of your head as if she doesn't dare touch any other part of your body.

"He was," you whisper, feeling too numb to even take into account you're naked. The tears have stopped and it feels like the anger and fear have been drained out of you, leaving your emotionless. "You don't understand."

"No, I don't," she agrees, sliding her fingers over your wet hair for a moment before pulling away. She grabs a towel and drapes it over your shoulders. "I know you're scared though." She sits down on the edge of the shower, one leg on either side, and leans down to pick up a few of the bottles you knocked over.

You carefully wrap the towel all the way around yourself, holding two of the corners of it in your fists up near your chin. Even though she's the only one there to see you, you try to feel less exposed by getting up and sitting between her legs then curling up against her with your back to the rest of the bathroom. You're barely aware that you're soaked and now getting her wet too.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks hesitantly, slowly wrapping her good arm around you. She moves her other arm so you can drape your legs over her leg, slightly facing the shower. "You know you can tell me anything, if you want to."

"I can't stop feeling him on me," you whisper, letting go of the towel and clinging to her sweatshirt for security. Her touch, her smell, everything about her drowns out everything about Joe and you let out a shaky breath. "I'm okay," you mumble finally.

Remy leans forward and turns the water back on, letting go of you to test the temperature. "Finish showering," she says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "I'm going to stay in here and brush my teeth, okay?"

You nod your head and reluctantly pull away, letting her get up to get ready for work as you return to showering.

-----

"I was wondering if you were coming or not," Wilson states as you walk into his office. "House kept coming in and trying to steal our lunch."

"We woke up late," you answer, shutting the door behind you before making your way over to the chair in front of his desk. "House is probably starving now that you don't have lunch with him." You take a seat and relax against the back of the chair, feeling relatively at ease in Wilson's office and at the hospital in general. Wherever they had taken Joe to get treated for the gunshot wound, it wasn't Princeton-Plainsboro.

Wilson breathes a chuckle and shakes his head. "He charges everything to Cuddy now," he replies, pulling out two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and two bottles of milk. "What are you doing for New Years?"

"What?" you ask in confusion, turning in your chair and craning your neck to glance at the calendar. With everything going on, you've completely lost track of time. "Today is New Year's Eve?" You turn to face him again, rubbing your forehead with two fingers and your thumb.

"I take it you're just going home and doing nothing," he comments with an amused smile, pushing a sandwich and bottle of milk toward you.

"I guess so," you answer, gratefully taking your lunch. "Thanks," you tell him with a smile, planning on spending an entire week buying lunch for him to pay him back. You wonder if Remy even knows that it's New Years Eve. It seems like just another day now though. Your year ended pretty terrible and it's only going to roll over into the next year. "You have plans?" you ask, unwrapping the sandwich.

He shakes his head. "You and Thirteen are welcome to come over," he says. "I'll make dinner."

You sit there for a moment and contemplate that. "That sounds great," you finally decide, nodding your head. You're not sure Remy is going to feel the same way though. "I'll ask Thirteen. She'll probably want to bring Kutner though." You doubt she'd actually request to bring him, but asking him to come also might convince her. You consider giving her the option of the twelve minute drive to Wilson's house or the twelve hour drive to your parents' house.

"The more the merrier," Wilson answers. "What time do you want to come over?"

"I think we're going couch shopping after work," you answer after swallowing a bite of your sandwich. "It might take us awhile to pick one out and get it home. My shift ends at five. Does nine sound okay?" Four hours should be more than enough time for you to buy a couch and get it home.

"That'll give me time to go to the store," he replies after a moment of thought. "You're buying a new couch?"

"Ours got ruined," you answer bitterly, trying not to think about it. Picturing the blood stain and the events of yesterday causes your appetite to quickly begin dissipating. You let out a slow breath through your mouth and poke at the bread on your sandwich for a moment, avoiding looking up. You hesitate then open your mouth to speak again when your pager starts beeping.

You put your sandwich down on the desk and pull your pager from your pocket. You furrow your brow when you realize Remy is paging you to the ER. "I have go," you mumble, getting to your feet. "Sorry." Your stomach rumbles as you glance at your sandwich. You look at Wilson and rub a hand up and down your arm.

"Take it with you," he assures you as if reading your hesitant expression. "I'll see you tonight?"

"I'll call if we can't make it," you assure him, smiling slightly. You grab your sandwich and bottle of milk to make your way toward the ER.

-----

The ER is a mad rush as usual when you arrive. You quickly shove the rest of your sandwich in your mouth then brush the breadcrumbs off your hand against your scrub pants. A few doctors and nurses are tending to patients and others are going over charts, but Remy is nowhere to be seen. "Hm," you mumble with your mouth closed, rubbing your tongue against the roof of your mouth to unstick the peanut butter. Realizing you're still holding the bottle of milk, you uncap it and take a few swallows as you make your way to your small office.

The door is open a crack and you glance in to see Remy sitting on your desk, fiddling with your stethoscope. "Hey," you say as you walk inside then shut the door behind you.

"Hey," she answers. She quickly puts the stethoscope down, accidentally knocking a few charts off your desk in the process. "Sorry." She gets to her feet then bends down and attempts picking up the scattered papers with one hand.

"It's fine," you answer, walking over. You kneel down and quickly gather the papers then hand them to her to put back on the desk. "Did House send you here?" you ask, wondering if they didn't have a case.

"No, I just had a question," she replies. She sits back down on your desk again, placing her hand on your stethoscope. After a moment, she slowly tightens her grip on it to a point that her knuckles begin to turn white.

"Are you okay?" you ask, tilting your head to the side and furrowing your brows. Neither of you are what could be considered 'okay' right now, but as you study her, you notice her seem to almost be holding back a grimace. "Your asthma's not acting up again, is it?" You put your bottle of milk on the desk and rest your hands on one of her legs.

"No, I wanted -" she comes to a stop and clenches her jaw, glancing down at the floor. "It's stupid. I shouldn't have paged you." She gets to her feet again and takes a few steps toward the door, pausing when you wrap an arm tightly around her waist.

"Remy." Your tone is almost scolding as you pull her against you and wrap your other arm around her too. Now that you know she's been cutting to ease her pain, it scares you to think she may turn to the razor instead of you to help her with things; especially now that she's sending off frustrated vibes. "What's wrong?" She's standing sideways against you and you place your chin on her shoulder, glancing up at her.

Staring at the door, she gradually relaxes into your embrace. "I need painkillers," she answers, gripping the bottom of her shirt and also managing to be holding onto part of your shirt. "I didn't want to take from the hospital because I'd have to write it down and I thought you might have some."

"There's some in one of my drawers," you answer, glancing down at the floor for a moment. "Why don't you just let me put a cast on your arm? It will heal faster and it will hurt less."

"I don't need a cast on it," she answers, shooting you a look. "It doesn't hurt _that_ bad."

"Which is why you're in my office looking for painkillers and your about to tear my shirt," you answer simply, arching a brow at her as you let go of her and pull back. Her hand immediately drops from your shirt and you feel bad, thinking you might have embarrassed her. "I need to take the stitches out anyway so I'll just numb it for awhile. I doubt anyone is going to question my charts. Sit down."

"You're not going to make me sit on one of those uncomfortable hospital beds with the crinkly paper?" she asks, feigning disappointment as she walks over to your couch and plops down.

"I thought my girlfriend should get special treatment," you answer, the word 'girlfriend' slipping out before you can stop it.

"Girlfriend, huh?" Remy asks, obviously having caught what you said.

You look over at her, expecting her to be staring at you with a puzzled look on her face. Her grimace has been replaced with a quirked brow and a goofy grin. "Yeah," you answer confidently as you walk toward the door. "I wouldn't want her to have to sit on the floor because you're hogging the hospital bed."

"Ouch." She places her hand on her heart and sticks out her lower lip in a mock pout. "I have to see this girlfriend of yours. I heard that there's this sexy brunette after you and I'm going to have to see if this woman compares to her." She gets to her feet and walks around the couch so she's standing in front of the arm closest to the door.

You turn and are about to teasingly tell her to sit back down, but her comment about the 'sexy brunette' being after you intrigues you. "And who told you that?" you ask, smirking and tilting your head to the side and you walk over to her again. You subconsciously rest your hands on her upper arms and look up at her.

"Chase," she answers, trying to keep a serious face. "He seems really jealous because she's much hotter and more of a badass than he is. I'm going to have to let him know if he has other competition too."

"She might be the one with the competition," you tease, tapping your fingers near her shoulders. You dislike insulting Chase, even if it is subtle, but you're making her smile. You like her smile more than you dislike insulting Chase. "He has the long blond hair, the Australian accent…"

"He might sound like Steve Irwin, but he couldn't even hunt a _nipper_ croc, Mate," she answers, doing her best Australian accent.

You try to keep a straight face but end up choking over a laugh, mainly because of how ridiculous she sounds. "Remy Hadley, you are not very nice," you inform her although you're unable to fight back a grin. "Sit down while I go get a giant needle to numb your arm with. We'll see how badass you are then."

"Crikey! Those anesthetic needles ain't nothin' compared ta how I got this hurt," she replies, grinning from ear to ear and still trying to talk in an Australian accent. "That snowman was vicious!" She moves to sit on the arm of the chair but moves back too far and grabs onto the front of your shirt as she falls backwards onto the couch.

"Remy!" you shriek then fall on top of her with a quiet 'oof'. For a moment, you panic and you can feel her tense under you as she gets nervous. The fear eases within a few seconds and you look down at her then raise your eyebrows.

She smiles sheepishly. "You're crushing me," she informs you innocently.

"Yeah?" you ask, pretending to be irritated. "And whose fault is that?" Placing your elbows on either side of her head, you lift yourself up slightly and rest your head against your hands, staring down at her. You're all too aware that your legs are on either side of her and your body is pressed close to hers. "Did I hurt you?" you mock her and pout.

"Yes," she answers. You know she's lying because the corner of her lips are tugging upward in a slight smirk. She bites the inside of her cheek and glances away from you for a moment, seeming to hesitate. "You could always kiss it and make it better though." She looks back up at you again, her expression becoming a bit more anxious as she tries to read your reaction.

"I could," you agree, lifting your head from your hands and brushing her hair away from her face. "Where does it hurt?"

She glances up at the ceiling and squints her eyes for a moment as she thinks. "My lips," she answers after a moment, smiling slightly. "Definitely my lips."

"Of course." You breathe a laugh and shake your head. "I didn't even land on your face." Despite the compromising position the two of you are in, you lean forward and brush your lips against hers. "Better?" you whisper, smirking as you feel her practically melt against the couch.

"No," she mumbles, your mouths close enough that they brush as she speaks. "Still hurts."

"Huh," you answer, trying to sound confused by that. Deciding that you like feeling her go weak as you kiss her, you slide one arm under her and support her head with your hand before capturing her lips again. She kisses you back and there's a soft moan as you close your eyes. It takes you several seconds to realize the noise came from you.

You let the hand that isn't under her head trail from her shoulder down to her side, barely aware of the movement. Her muscles tense against your fingers and she lets her good hand rest on your hip, gently trying to deepen the kiss with her tongue.

"What are we doing?" you whisper, pulling back slightly. You bite down on your lower lip as she opens her eyes and glances up and down at the position the two of you are in.

"Whatever you want," she answers, moving her hand from your hip and stretching it above her head. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You nod slowly, taking in the feeling of your warm bodies pressed against each other and the taste of her kiss. As comfortable as you are now, the thought of getting closer make you nervous. "I just want to kiss you," you answer.

"Okay," she answers simply. She stares up at you for a moment before slowly letting her eyes flutter closed again.

For a moment, you just stare at her and take in how beautiful she is. You lean forward and are about to kiss her but stop before your lips meet. "You can put your hand back where it was," you tell her quietly.

"Okay," she repeats in a whisper then moves her hand so it's resting on your waist again. Leaning forward, she hesitantly presses her lips to yours again and tries to resume from where the two of you left off.

Parting your lips slightly, you deepen the kiss and sit up, pulling her up with you. You find yourself tucked safely between Remy and the back of the couch, feeling like nothing can hurt you. She groans quietly as you wrap one of your arms around her neck and carefully entangle your fingers in her hair.

The door to your office opens with a creaking noise and you and Remy break apart, quickly looking to the side to see Wilson walking in.

"Cameron, I will…" His voice trails off as he sees the two of you. His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he clears his throat then points out the door. "I will page you next time." He gives the two of you a slight nod without looking at either of you then walks back out and shuts the door behind him.

Remy lets out a breath and turns so she can lean back against the arm of the couch, her legs resting across your lap. "Think he's going to tell House?" she asks.

"Nope," you answer. You're sure House already knows there's something going on between the two of you, but isn't bringing it up because of the circumstances. As soon as things lighten up a bit, you have a feeling House is going to want every detail of your relationship and do whatever he can to get those details. You lean back against the couch for a moment then pat her legs before carefully pushing them off of you so you can get up. "I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," she replies, settling against the arm and back of the couch. She glances up at you and smiles.

You grin back at her, feeling slightly giddy from the kiss. With Chase, the only kiss that made you feel giddy was the first one. This is your third time kissing Remy and you still feel like you're floating on air. You walk out of your office and glance around for Wilson, catching his eye just as he's walking out of the ER. He doesn't come back to talk to you, but he gives you a knowing glance. Your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson and you bite down on your lower lip as your smile gets slightly wider.

Despite what Remy said about not wanting a cast, you get the supplies for that along with the scissors for cutting the sutures and a needle with anesthesia before walking back into the room. "Pick a color," you tell her, nodding to the box of cast colors in your arm.

She glances at the box and scowls, clutching her arm against her chest. "You're not casting it," she tells you, narrowing her eyes. "How am I supposed to use it if it's in a cast?"

"You can't use it anyway," you answer, rolling your eyes. You place the supplies beside the couch then kneel down and pull out hot pink. "Pick a color before I use this one."

Her eyes widen at your choice. "You wouldn't," she says slowly, cocking her head to the side suspiciously.

"Wanna bet?" you reply with a smirk, slowly beginning to unravel the material.

"I want blue," she says quickly, eyeing the pink.

"That's what I thought." You toss the pink back into the box then grab the needle. "Come here, Crocodile Hunter."

"That needle ain't nothin', Mate," she says with a grin and scoots forward on the couch.

Narrowing your eyes, you shoot her a warning glance that neither of you can take seriously. Resisting the urge to kiss her again, you bite back a grin and focus on fixing her arm.


	28. Chapter 28

**Ilive:** Well, I don't think I hot pink cast in 3rd grade would be as bad as one at Remy's age. Ha.  
**Anonymous:** Cameron is...slowly getting back to normal. Slowly. It'll still take awhile w/ things...cause it's not like she can just jump back after what happened.  
**Eva:** Wilson totally had to be first to know...'cause Wilson is made of win. xD  
**JB: **I may get another chapt up by March 12, but I doubt it'll be smut. Lol. Sorryyy. I'm working on a slight timeline w/ when the events in this fic happen...unless the characters randomly decide to change things like they've been doing. Happy early bday if I happen to not have a chapt up by then!  
**Shan:** Thank you very much. More fluff and humor in this chapt!  
**Meva:** You're all so intent I kill off Chase. He doesn't have a guaranteed life...but I really have no plans to kill him off. Lol.  
**Melissa:** I like that you like Remy's smell is comforting to Cameron. I always feel warm writing that. Wilson is win. xD  
**Pink: **Thank you so much. Chase is definitely not out of the picture...not even after this chapt.  
**Nameless: **Mm. No. You don't win. I have better means of torture than not updating.  
**Amazon:** ...Now I have this image of your brain bouncing up and down as you read. Ha. A pocket-Wilson? Well, when you find out where they make those, buy me one too! xD  
**Ilessthree: **I now know...that you are Sarah. -win!- Anyway! xD If Cameron would have used pink on Remy...Cam might have been the one in need of a cast. Lol.  
**Lessthan13: **How you would know? Have you ever /tried/ eating a significant figure? It could be equally as appetizing. xDDD Join WFW! I'm guessing it reminds you of....WBND? x3  
**Robert:** Thank you so much! Glad you like it.  
**Library:** Thanks so much!  
**Charmed:** For the first time in awhile...I have updated soon! -win-  
**Miralinda:** Thank you so much!  
**Josey (Ch. 1-4):** Hey...at least you went to sleep...eventually. xD My roomie is probably like, "Are you stupid?" bc I went to sleep at 6:30 and didn't get up until 1:30. It takes skill to know you can be productive and choose not to do so! Hopefully I will continue to keep my characters at least decently in character thru-out the rest of the fic. . - My dad always tells me I'd be better off writing for LOST or House than doing anything else. Baha. If only! - Shhhh. No making fun of Remy bc she can't keep a goldfish alive! I'm on chapt 28 and at least Cameron is still alive. She remembers to feed her and stuff. xDDD - Teehee. Nope. Only Remy can be replacement-hoodie. Less sleeping; more reading. No...wait. xD Less sleeping; more Katy Perry licking JMo. -lmao- Talking to me at 5am while I'm overloaded w/ coffee is the closet you'll ever get to me being drunk.  
**Glaukopis:** Thanks so much! Hopefully I can keep control of the characters. They tend to control themselves tho. If they don't want to act a way I want them to...then they don't let me write until I change it. x_x

I think this is the last fluffy chapt for awhile...unless the characters decide otherwise. If y'all want me to update faster...pray I have more snow days! xD I feel kinda ooc in this chapt...but eh.  
And no threats toward a certain character who appears later in this chapt! (That's directed toward one person in particular...but just thought I'd throw that out there. -narrows eyes-)

* * *

**Remy's POV: **

"Remy, stop scratching at it," Cameron comments as the two of you walk down the hall and toward the locker room. She glances at your arm, raising her eyebrows at the red mark you're leaving. "It's numb. It can't itch that bad."

"Well, it does," you lie, scratching around the top of the cast. In all honesty, you can't feel a thing. You want an excuse to look at the word 'Allie' scrawled in bold letters with a heart next to it covering a large portion of the blue material on your cast. It gives you a warm, fluttery feeling that sets off a million warning signals in your head yet somehow makes you want to draw closer to her. "Do you have anything you need from your locker?"

She comes to a stop beside the locker room door and purses her lips together for a moment. "No, I have everything," she answers, shaking her head. "If you give me the keys, I'll go warm up the car."

You pause for a moment then feel your pockets until you find them in your lab jacket. "I'll be there in a second," you say, pulling out the keys then handing them to her. "Kutner should be waiting by the door. If he isn't, I'll meet him before I come out."

"No rush," she assures you. She tosses the keys a few inches in the air then catches them again and smiles at you.

"Well, if I'm not out in twenty minutes, you might want to send a search party after me," you reply, grinning back at her.

"Okay, please don't take twenty minutes just to go to your locker," she answers, still smiling.

You exaggerate sigh and pretend to be exasperated. "So much for no rush," you comment. "I'll be out in a second." You turn away from her and push the locker door open then walk inside. Now you have to find your locker key. Tugging at the pocket in your lab jacket, you glance inside as you walk toward your locker. Sighing, you drop your good hand to one of your pants pockets and shove it inside then pull out the key. Focused on getting your things and leaving, you don't notice you're not alone until you collide with another person rounding the corner of one of the locker aisles.

Your key hits the ground and you glance up to see a flustered looking Chase. "Sorry," you mutter even though you don't feel he deserves an apology from you.

"I left Cameron's things in front of her locker," he says slightly coldly, taking a few steps away from you.

You bend down and pick up your key then narrow your eyes at him. "So, that's your plan?" you ask, suddenly regretting you even came into the room in the first place. "You're just going to leave her stuff there and avoid her? You could have at least given her stuff to her."

He lets out a sharp breath. "Every time I try to talk to her, you're there," he replies, making his way to the door. He stops once he gets there and turns around. "I'm trying to do what's going to make her happy. Maybe you should do the same."

Clenching your jaw, you cross your arms across your chest and lean sideways against one of the lockers. "Let me guess what that would be," you say then pause and pretend to think. "Telling her to go back to you?"

"Stop making her think that she likes you," Chase answers, putting his hand on the doorknob and opening the door. "I know her and I know you are one of the last people she would fall in love with."

You open your mouth to retaliate, but he steps away from the door again and keeps speaking.

"She gives to people who she thinks need something. Then she gets too involved and thinks she's in love. It happened with her husband, with House, and now it's happening with you. In the end, she only ends up getting hurt. She's not depending on you because you're stable. She's depending on you because you're screwed up." He shakes his head.

"You think you didn't hurt her?" you ask, taking a few threatening steps forward. His words are making you feel mixed reactions. Your cheeks flush a light shade of red and you dig your nails into your palm.

"Not in the same way you will," he answers, looking as pissed off as you feel. He breathes a harsh laugh. "Just because you're on House's team doesn't mean you can interfere with everyone in the hospital like he does. Just remember that we were his team first. Maybe I _should_ talk to her."

Not wanting Cameron to come looking for you and find you arguing with Chase, you silently remind yourself you have better things to do. Not bothering with going to your own locker, you walk to Cameron's and grab her bags. "Go ahead and talk to her," you answer. "But actually work things out and get over her. I kicked the ass of the last guy who made her cry and I'm not afraid to do it to the next."

"Are you threatening me?" Chase asks as you round the corner again with Cameron's things. "The whole hospital knows you shot some guy. Do you really think threats are -"

"What is going on in here?" Cuddy asks from the doorway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest and a stern look on her face.

You and Chase glance over at her immediately, looking like deer caught in the headlights. "Nothing," you and he answer simultaneously.

Cuddy sighs. "Dr. Chase, my office," she demands. "Dr. Hadley, take Cameron home and don't come back until you can both work in this hospital without a problem."

Grinding your teeth, you nod your head because you have no other choice but to do what she says. Enough is going on that you don't need an argument with Cuddy to really screw things up.

"That's it?" Chase asks, obviously not thinking the same as you are. "You're just sending her home?"

"She needs to go home," Cuddy answers firmly, her voice void of personal emotion. "You need to go to my office."

Lifting one of the bags so you can place the strap on your shoulder, you walk toward the door then slow beside Chase and Cuddy. "Move on, Chase," you say in a barely audible voice then continue out of the room and down the hall. "Happy New Years," you scowl under your breath.

-----

If it were other circumstances, special treatment from Cuddy when it comes to you and Chase might make you feel smug. Her pity disgusts you though. If everyone knows you shot someone, that explains weird looks from other doctors, the nurses being flustered when you spoke to them, and why House told you to _shoot_ up your patient with drugs. You feel like backtracking your day and reading into everything that happened, but Chase's words pull you in a different direction.

What he said was almost exactly what Joe said. 'Cameron doesn't love; she feeds off other people's pain'. Part of you hates that he would undermine her emotions. Another part of you wonders if he's right. What reason would Cameron have to like you? Sure, many girls find you attractive, but those girls are already lesbians or bisexuals. Cameron was straight before she met you and you doubt you have the looks or personality to change that. That would either mean you're just providing her with security and she's confused or you're fucked up enough to be one of her charity cases.

"Do you need help with one of those bags?" Foreman asks, glancing up at you from where he's standing by the door.

You snap out of your thoughts to realize you're about to drop both bags and your arm feels like it's going numb. "No point in casting my other arm," you reply, dropping one of them to the ground. You fight the urge to rub your shoulder, knowing it would be impossible to hold a bag in your good hand and rub it with the casted one. "Thanks." Trying to ignore the tingling from where the strap of the bag had been cutting off circulation, you adjust the strap of the other one.

"How's Cameron?" he asks, picking up the bag and following you out the door.

"Fine," you answer simply, not sure he actually cares.

"And you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. "I heard about yesterday."

"Apparently the whole hospital heard about yesterday," you say, readjusting the strap of the bag. You glance around for your car, seeing it in the near distance. It looks like it's running, but Cameron is standing outside of it. For a moment, you wonder what she's doing before you see she's talking to Kutner. "I'm fine. Not like I killed the guy."

"They brought him here," Foreman says. "Cuddy heard what happened and had him transferred."

"Had who transferred?" Cameron asks, looking away from Kutner now that you and Foreman are close enough that she can hear you.

Kutner opens his mouth to speak, but Foreman cuts him off. "One of House's patients," he lies, shrugging.

"Chase gave you my things?" Cameron asks, eyeing her bags and tilting her head to the side. "Want me to pop the trunk?"

"Yeah," you answer nodding. "He left them by your locker and I picked them up."

"Are you going to the party at Wilson's house tonight?" Kutner asks Foreman as Cameron opens the car door to open the trunk for you.

"What party at Wilson's house?" Foreman asks.

Kutner turns away from him and shouts across the parking lot. "Taub!" he yells. "Party at Wilson's house tonight!"

Cameron stands up once the trunk is open and narrows her eyes at Kutner, looking ready to smack herself in the forehead.

You glance at the three of them then open the trunk and place the bag you're holding inside. You step aside so Foreman can put the other bag in then slam the trunk door down. "Thanks," you tell Foreman before looking at Kutner and Cameron. "Ready to go?"

"La-Z-Boy, right?" Kutner confirms. "I borrowed a truck from a friend incase you find anything in stock."

You nod your head. Your living room looks empty without a couch so you definitely plan on buying something that you can take home with you right then and there. As Cameron walks around to the passenger's side, you open the driver's side door and get in the car.

"Are you okay?" Cameron asks as she gets in the car. "You seem a bit off. You didn't even put your lab coat in your locker." She shuts her door at the same time you shut yours then turns to face you, placing her hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine," you answer, putting your hand on the gearshift and glancing out the back window. "I'm taking my lab coat home to wash it."

"Alright." She squeezes your shoulder and smiles at you.

Glancing at her out of the corner of your eye as you take the car out of park, you force a smile back then start on your way to the furniture store. You can deal with this whole mess later. Right now, you just want to have a stress-free New Years. Who is _Chase_ of all people to say Cameron doesn't like you anyway?

-----

"What about this one?" Kutner asks, stopping by a giant, purple couch that would never even fit in your door. "Look; it reclines on both sides."

"I'm afraid to see what the inside of your house looks like if this is your taste in furniture," you inform him, ignoring the couch he's looking at and walking further down the aisle. You pause beside a decent sized, black couch made for two people. "I like this one," you state, ready to buy something and leave. "It's only $600."

"It even pulls out into a bed for when you and that girl get pissed off at each other," a familiar female voice comments.

You quickly glance up, your eyes widening at the sight of Rebecca. "Hey," you say, your shocked look fading into a grin. "What are you doing here?"

"You inspired me to buy a couch for my apartment," she replies, shrugging. "I thought about stealing your old one, but finding a matching cushion turned out to be too much trouble."

"Remy, I found one over there," Cameron says, walking over to you. She glances between you and Rebecca then smiles. "You're Remy's landlord right?"

Rebecca nods her head slowly. "And you're _that _girl," she confirms. She turns to you and raises her eyebrows. "Happy to know you talk about me _so_ much, Remy."

You roll your eyes. "Rebecca, Allison. Allison, Rebecca," you introduce the two of them hastily.

"And Kutner," Kutner introduces himself, walking so he's standing in front of you, his eyes on Rebecca. "You're Thirteen's friend?"

"Shocking, I know," you say sarcastically. "Sorry if you thought you were my only one."

"Are you going to the party at Wilson's house tonight?" Kutner asks, not taking any notice to you as you push him slightly to the side.

"I don't know who Wilson is," she replies, narrowing her eyes at him slightly. She shakes her head and turns to face you. "You're going to a party? We usually go out New Years Eve."

"You're welcome to join us," Cameron cuts in, smiling at her. "Wilson won't mind."

"I don't think Wilson's party is Rebecca's kind of party," you inform Cameron, a smirk tugging at your lips. You pause. "When did we decide to go to Wilson's?"

"Well, if you're going to be there, Remy, I might as well show up," Rebecca says, shrugging. "You know me; big on tradition," she deadpans.

"No new girls at the bar lately?" you guess, arching a brow at her.

"That too." Rebecca waves her hand in a vague gesture. "I'll get the address from you at home?"

"I guess so," you reply, draping your good arm over Cameron's shoulders.

"Come on," Cameron says, tugging on your arm. "The one over here would look great in your apartment." She smiles at Rebecca. "I'll see you at Wilson's."

You let Cameron drag you over to the couch she likes, glancing back at Rebecca for a reaction. She grins at you then turns around and goes to shop for her own couch.

-----

There's more people at Wilson's than you expected there to be; and apparently more than Cameron and Wilson expected there to be too. The two of them look like they're in a state of shock when following you comes Kutner, then Taub, then Foreman, then even House and Cuddy.

"It's a good thing I bought extra food," Wilson comments, watching everybody make themselves at home in his living room. He glances at Cameron. "I didn't realize you were going to invite the entire hospital."

"Neither did I," she mumbles, rubbing her forehead with her thumb and forefinger. "To make it fair, I have no clue how House and Cuddy found out."

"Probably Kutner," you answer with a smirk, shaking your head. You glance toward the open door when there's a knock on the wall. Rebecca is standing there, glancing around at everyone. She looks nice with her hair straightened and a modest, tan sweater and dark jeans that aren't too tight fitting. "Hey," you call to her, gesturing her over.

"I'm going to get something to eat now incase Wilson runs out of food," Cameron comments.

"Alright." You watch her walk with Wilson toward the kitchen. They start talking and then Cameron starts laughing, making your heart feel like it's skipping beats. She looks beautiful in her grey sweater with her brown locks slightly curled and pulled back with a headband. Then again, she looks beautiful all the time. Realizing you're staring, you quickly turn to look at Rebecca as she approaches you. "You actually came."

"I _said_ I'd be here," Rebecca replies, rolling her eyes. "Am I the only person here who isn't a doctor?"

You glance around then shake your head. "Nope," you reply. You nod to Batman who is trying to gnaw on House's cane without being hit by it.

"Great!" Rebecca folds her arms across her chest and rocks back on her heels. "I'm bored already."

"I told you it wasn't your type of party," you remind her. "Come on." You walk over to Wilson's couch where Kutner is sitting, letting Rebecca sit between the two of you incase Cameron wants to sit beside you.

Kutner clears his throat and glances over at her, his eyes widening slightly. "You came," he states.

"My God, do you all think I'm a liar?" Rebecca asks, slapping her hands down on her lap. She scowls at him and props her feet up on the coffee table.

"No," Kutner answers quickly. "Definitely not." He slowly turns to face the TV again, gripping his soda can a bit tighter.

Not bothering to hide a smirk, you settle back against the couch and turn part of your attention toward the TV.

"So did you kiss Allison yet?" Rebecca asks, turning away from Kutner. She places her elbow on your shoulder and leans her head against her hand, studying you.

"None of your business," you answer simply, refusing to look at her. "Is this the channel with Times Square?"

"That's a yes," she replies, snickering. "I'm guessing more than once too." She wiggles her eyebrows at you.

"You kissed Cameron?" Kutner asks, leaning forward so he can look around her and see your face.

"That's twenty bucks," House says, turning to Taub and holding out his hand.

"Thanks," you tell Rebecca sarcastically, glaring at her out of the corner of your eye.

"At least now you can kiss her at midnight," Rebecca replies simply, turning away from you again.

"Speaking of kissing at midnight," Kutner starts slowly.

"Get a vagina and then we'll talk," Rebecca cuts him off. She leans her head back against the couch cushion and looks over at Cuddy. "I'd hit that tonight."

Eyes as wide as silver dollars, Kutner turns to face straight ahead, glancing to the side at Rebecca.

"You don't want her," you reply calmly, trying hard not to react to Kutner. "You don't want the drama that comes with her and House."

"With an ass like that, I don't give a fuck about drama," Rebecca replies.

Kutner chokes on his soda and you nearly burst into laughter as he starts coughing. Tears sting your eyes as you try to contain yourself, bringing your hand to your mouth to hide your grin.

"Are you alright?" Cuddy asks, spinning around to look at him.

"He's fine," you speak for him, half mumbling through your fingers. "He's just aspirating." Your chest heaves with a silent laugh as he coughs harder. After the elevator, he deserves that.

"I feel like I've missed something," Rebecca says after Cuddy turns around again.

"Whatever it is, you probably don't want in on it," Cameron says, pulling a piece of bread off a hotdog bun and placing it in her mouth as she walks over to the couch. She sits down beside you and drapes her legs over yours.

It's hard to wrap your arm around her with the cast on it, but you somehow manage to do it. Chase's words cross your mind again but you quickly push them away before you can think about them too much and turn your attention back to the TV.

-----

"The countdown is starting!" Kutner announces from his spot on the couch, glancing away from the TV as everyone gathers around the couch.

It feels like the perfect way to start a new year and you quickly try to squash the warm feelings welling up in you. Kutner, Rebecca, Cameron, and you are sitting on the couch. Wilson takes a seat on the arm closest to Cameron and Taub sits on the arm closest to Kutner. Foreman stands slightly behind Taub while Cuddy and House stand directly behind the couch. Apparently feeling left out, Batman bounds over and leaps up onto Cameron's lap.

_5_

Are you supposed to kiss her at midnight? You tap your fingers on her shoulder, focusing on the numbers flashing on the screen.

_4_

You're not really sure how she'd feel about that with everyone watching and knowing. She glances at you and raises her eyebrows then places her hand on yours to stop you from tapping.

_3_

No doubt, you'll be the only two kissing. It's not like House is going to kiss Cuddy. Tearing your eyes away from the TV, you glance down at your lap then look over at her.

_2_

She tilts her head to the side in confusion and smiles at you. Maybe you should just stop thinking and kiss her.

_1_

"Ah, fuck it," Rebecca says. "I'm not kissing no one on New Years." She turns and shoves Kutner back against Taub, knocking Taub right off the arm of the couch.

With everyone's attention focused on them, you quickly turn to the side and peck Cameron on the lips. She slides her arms around your neck when you pull away and kisses you again.

"That's another twenty bucks," House says.


	29. Chapter 29

**Esuedros:** I'll get more into Rebecca later. Cameron has a lot of trust for Remy. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Robert:** Rebecca thanks you for not hating her. Ha. However, hate Chase all you want. Things aren't over with Chase.  
**Nameless: **Kutner is...Kutner. Where would the fun be if he had a muzzle? Rebecca is around to stay.  
**Melissa:** That's okay. Chase deserves it right now. Don't be late for class on account of SF!  
**Miralinda: **Ah...but they did kiss. -smile-  
**JB: **Don't choke! I don't provide insurance! Ooh...Snow + Cadley? Well, it was meant to be Wilson, Remy, Cam, and Kutner. Which is what I really did intend...but Kutner has a big mouth. I got to that scene and was all, "wait...how did all these people get here again?!"  
**Pink: **Hm...I was trying to make Rebecca as unjealous as possible. Guess I wasn't clear enough with that. But...she'll be around again soon, so I'll fix it up.  
**Amazon:** Ha. I'll make sure to have Wilson invite you to the next party! Ah...Katy Perry licking JMo...Like I said...catching me online hyped up on caffeine at odd hours in the morning is equiv to catching me drunk. xD  
**Final:** ...-slowly pushes Chase out of the way- Easy now. xD  
**Glaukopis: **Cam will slowly get back to normal.  
**Eva:** No more snow, unfortunately. But break starts soon!  
**Ilive: **Well, Rebecca really isn't meant to cause trouble. Glad you liked the party scene.  
**Bigblusky:** Glad you're enjoying it!  
**Ilessthree:** ...as you read this review reply, remember you should probably be studying. xD Tho...I support your procrastination and SF reading!  
**Anonymous:** Glad you like Rebecca and Kutner! I thought about inviting Chase. I felt bad he was probably home alone eating icecream and watching chick-flicks. -wink-  
**Kirei:** I'm more like, "break! break! break!" ...Eventually Chase may start thinking. ...or not.  
**Floating (chpt. 27): **Thanks fore reviewing! Glad you're enjoying it!  
**Charmed: **Ruining moments is House's specialty. Ha.  
**Lessthan13: **Hm. Eating homework. Well...sounds better than actually doing it. I had 2 snow days...which explains my fast updates. And I knew what you meant...but more reviews make me look more popular so thanks for fixing it. xDDDD  
**Enigmatic: **Thanks for reviewing!

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

"Remy, get up," you hiss, grabbing a pillow off the bed and smacking her with it. The clock reads 4am, meaning the two of you only got about two hours of sleep, but your pager is going off repeatedly.

"You're out of your mind," she grumbles, rolling onto her stomach and pulling her pillow over her head. "Come back to bed." She fumbles for the end of the comforter then yanks it up over her head and the pillow.

"I have to go, Remy," you reply, pulling off your pajama pants. You kneel down on the cold floor beside your suitcase and dig through your clothes for a pair of scrubs. "Do you have any idea how many drunk idiots end up nearly dead in the ER on New Years?"

"What am I supposed to do at the hospital until nine?" she murmurs, slowly pushing the blanket back down as your pager begins beeping again. She sighs and throws her pillow to the side, accidentally hitting you in the head with it.

When the pillow hits you, you drop your scrub pants. Scowling, you throw it back at her then try to peer through the darkness until you find them again. "I don't know," you answer, standing and yanking your pants on before pulling off your shirt. "You could sleep in the lounge." You glance to the side as she sits up then kneel down and grab your shirt. "Or you could be productive and help in the ER." Wrestling your shirt over your head, you walk over to the lights and flip them on.

She groans and covers her eyes with her hands, bending her knees so she can rest her elbows on her legs. "House never even calls me in this early," she informs you in a voice hoarse from sleep.

"That's because House would rather let his patients die than sacrifice his time," you answer, frowning. Her throaty voice is rather attractive and keeps you from being too aggravated with her. You turn to the dresser and grab a hair-tie that probably belongs to her then quickly pull your hair into a messy bun. "Are you coming or do I have to get Batman?"

"I'm getting there," she answers, lifting her head slightly. Her half-lidded eyes follow you for a moment as you cross the room again to grab your pager off the nightstand. "Statistics show that drivers who are over-tired are just as dangerous as those who have had too much alcohol," she tries.

"I'll make you coffee then," you answer nonchalantly, refusing to believe she's as tired as she's making herself out to be. No doubt House has kept her at the hospital overnight before or she's gone into work after a late night of partying. "Ten minutes and then we're leaving." You hold up all ten of your fingers at her as you walk backward out of the room to go make coffee.

From the living room, you smirk as you hear her groan and slam one of her dresser drawers shut.

-----

It's always when you first walk into the ER that you miss being on House's team the most. The mad rush of moving stretchers, panicking patients, and arguing nurses can still get overwhelming. The doctors are always trying to be in multiple places at once because of the shortage of help. Even bad days in the ER don't look like this though.

"Greyhound swerved to miss a car as it slammed on its breaks," a nurse says, approaching you while holding a clipboard. She doesn't bother to glance up, focused on scribbling away on one of the charts. "Driver of the car is going to have one hell of a headache from all the alcohol he consumed, but other than that, he's fine. The bus on the other hand, went through the guardrail and flipped onto its side."

"How can I help?" Remy asks you, glancing around with wide eyes as doctors begin to treat patients right in the main area because all of the curtained areas are full.

Puffing out your cheeks as you let out a deep breath through your mouth, you try to think of something that's only going to require one hand. "My stethoscope is in my office," you answer, glancing back at her. "Find where there's a shortage of nurses and start checking hearts and lungs."

You walk over to the nurses' station and grab one of the clipboards and a pen then make your way over to one of the curtains that doesn't seem to have any doctors around it. "I'm Dr. Cameron," you introduce yourself as you pull the curtain back far enough so you can get past it. "Has anyone been in here yet?"

"Ah, Dr. Cameron," the woman on the bed replies, the corners of her lips tugging upward into a slight smile. "Head of the ER. Doctor everyone has been looking for. I'm Laura Asher."

You glance at her and smile then nod once. "Nice to meet you, Laura," you answer before looking around to see if anyone made a chart for her.

"There was another doctor in here earlier," she tells you, pointing to where the doctor placed the chart. "Apparently my ankle might be broken, but we're okay. The doctor told me he'd be back when he got the chance. That was about forty minutes ago." She pauses. "Not that we're complaining."

"We?" you confirm, grabbing the chart before looking over at her again. You glance around for another person then tilt your head in confusion.

"Oh, come on," she laughs, running her fingers through her short, blond hair. "You haven't noticed what a hippo I am?" She pats her protruding stomach and raises her eyebrows.

You freeze for a moment then force a smile and glance down at her chart, reading it over. "Well, I didn't even notice you're pregnant so-"

"You're very sweet," she cuts you off, trying to settle back against the hospital bed. "This is my fourth one though. I've come to terms with getting fat."

"That's a lot of kids," you reply quietly, trying not to get distracted with your own thoughts about pregnancy. "It says they gave you an anesthetic to numb the pain, but they haven't taken x-rays yet," you think out loud as you continue to read. "I'll get you up to radiation to see what they say since you're pregnant. If it's possible you don't need any x-rays, we can cast your ankle and then you can wait for your family. Were your husband or kids in the crash?" You attach the papers to the clipboard then hang it at the bottom of the bed.

"No; thank God," she replies, turning her head to look at you as you walk behind the bed and undo the breaks. "This place seems enough of a madhouse without three, screaming, little girls or a panicking husband. They're on their way though. They're probably about two hours from here. Do you have kids?"

"No," you answer, giving her a moment to turn around and lean back against the bed again before you begin pushing it. You glance around for Remy. She could manage to push a bed to x-ray, but you don't see her anywhere. Clearing your throat uncomfortably, you keep an eye on those around you to make sure you don't collide with anyone. "Do you-"

"That's surprising," she says, not giving you time to finish your question. "You have that motherly glow to you. Are you pregnant?"

"No," you repeat in an even quieter tone, realizing you're gripping the bed tight enough that your knuckles are turning white. You're about to walk out of the ER when Remy catches your eye. "Dr. Hadley!" you call to her instantly, motioning her over.

With the ER in the midst of chaos, Remy looks rather frazzled until she hears your voice. She jumps back to avoid getting hit by a stretcher then walks hastily over to you. "Please tell me you have something else for me to do," she says slightly irritably, crossing her arms tightly across her bloodstained scrub shirt.

"Take Mrs. Asher here to radiation and see what they say about x-raying her ankle," you reply. You smirk and shake your head. "After that, get some rest in the lounge. You're more harm than good with your crippled hand."

Huffing almost inaudibly, Remy takes your place behind the hospital bed and pushes the woman out of the ER and toward x-ray.

-----

By noon, you're ready to collapse. After getting the bus patients taken care of, the ER is still full from various other accidents caused by either too much alcohol or too little sleep. You finish placing a bandage over yet more stitches on someone then pull your gloves off and toss them in the trash. "You're good to go," you assure the man, rubbing your arm along your forehead to brush some loose strands of hair away from your eyes.

"You should take a break, Dr. Cameron," one of the nurses says, taking the man's chart from the bottom of the bed. "Things are under control for now."

Stifling a yawn, you nod your head, knowing you need to take a few moments to rest before attempting to fix anyone else. Not only are you exhausted, but your rumbling stomach is reminding you it's time to pay a visit to Wilson's office. Over the past few hours, you've been thinking though, and you're not exactly thrilled to talk to him at the moment.

"I'll be back," you tell the nurse, much to her frown and shake of the head at that. Even though you've already been working for nearly eight hours, you can't leave until Remy is ready to leave. You might as well make yourself productive in the ER while waiting for her to be finished working.

You changed scrubs once already and are slightly unsatisfied to find no blood stains on the ones you're currently wearing, meaning you don't have to stop at the locker room before going to Wilson's office. You keep glancing down at your clothes, looking for a reason to stall and take longer. Lost in thought as you walk and take the elevator, you find yourself in front of his door in what seems like a matter of seconds.

Wilson glances up from something that he's writing and furrows his brow at your disheveled appearance. "New Years in the ER," he confirms to himself before reaching down and picking up a paper bag. "Here for lunch?"

Hunger causes you to stare at the bag for a moment and you bring your hand to your mouth, biting down nervously on your pinky nail. "I need a consult," you reply after a few seconds, glancing over at him.

"For one of your patients in the ER?" he asks, getting to his feet. He steps to the side and pushes his chair in then walks over to you.

You hesitate and rock back on your heels, still chewing on your fingernail. "For myself," you reply, refusing to look at him. "I know you're an oncologist, but…" You let your voice trail off as you try to find the right words. "I trust you. I don't want anyone to find out."

"What do you need?" he asks, his eyebrows still drawn together in concern when you glance up at him again.

"I need a blood test," you answer, your voice so low that it's barely above a whisper. You lower your hand from your mouth and begin rubbing your fingers up and down your arm. One glance toward your lunch again lets you know that you've managed to get nervous enough that you're no longer hungry. "I need to make sure I'm not pregnant." The word tastes bitter as you say it and you swallow hard then bite down on your lower lip.

"It's still soon for a blood test, isn't it?" he replies. If he realizes in order for no one to know, he's going to have to forge a name on the test, he doesn't seem bothered by it. "You could get a false negative. If you think you're-"

"I just need to do it," you reply, giving him a pleading look. "Please," you whisper.

He pauses and stares at you for a moment then nods his head. "Alright," he replies. "Don't think this gets you out of having lunch with me though." He motions you out of the room.

You manage a small smile at him then stare down at the floor as you walk. In attempt to ignore how shaky your hands are, you cross your arms tightly across your chest. "Thank you for this," you say quietly, letting him lead you to an empty room.

He shuts the door behind the two of you then begins going through a drawer with needles in it.

Letting out a deep breath, you uncross your arms and sit down on the bed. "I hate needles," you whisper, mainly to yourself. It's a lot different getting them than giving them and it seems even worse with your nerves the way they are right now.

"Who doesn't?" Wilson replies. He sits down on a stool with wheels and scoots over to beside the bed. "It will only take a second." He ties the band around your arm then begins opening the disinfectant packet.

"I know." You've used that line more times than you can count. It only takes a second for the person giving the needle. For the person getting it, it takes much longer. When you feel his hand on you and the cool, wet disinfectant wipe cleaning the crook of your arm, you clamp your eyes shut.

"Cameron, are you sure you want to do this now?" he asks when your discomfort becomes apparent. "If you wait a few days, the chance you'll have to do it again won't be as-"

"I want to do it now," you confirm, trying to ignore the bitter taste in your mouth and the queasiness in your stomach. Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you hold them back, ignoring the urge to start crying for Remy. The needles slides under your skin and you grip the sheet on the bed, occasionally murmuring weak 'ouches'.

"You know Thirteen is probably going to see this, right?" Wilson asks, sliding the needle back out and capping the tube. He presses gauze to your arm and bandages it in place before untying the band and tossing it on the desk.

You nod and wipe at your eyes, jumping but then relaxing as he places his hand on your mid-back. "I'll tell her I accidentally stabbed myself with my own needle or something," you mutter, doubting she'd even believe that.

He lets his hand rest on your back until you open your eyes again and start to feel slightly calmer. "Charles in the lab owes me a favor," he says. "I'll tell him it's for one of your patients and you'll pick it up before you leave."

"Thanks." You feel guilty about lying, but there's no need for the entire hospital to find out. Not wanting to think about it anymore, you try to shove all of your feelings into a box and lock them away. "How about lunch now?"

"Lunch sounds great," Wilson answers, helping you up.

-----

"Are you ready to go?" Remy asks, appearing in the ER around six. The dark circles under her eyes make it obvious she didn't have as much time to catch up on sleep in the lounge as you did.

"Yes." You nod your head and shove a few papers onto the desk at the nurses station then tug at the sleeve of her hoodie you're wearing. Needing comfort and a better way to hide where you had blood taken, you had asked for her locker key right after lunch. "You look exhausted," you comment, walking over to her and letting your hand rest on her lower back.

"I wonder why," she deadpans, walking with you as you start toward the car. "Do you have everything you need?"

"Yeah." You nod slowly. The lab results for your blood had gotten done an hour ago and you picked them up then hid the paper in your pocket without looking at it. You inch closer to her when she slides an arm around your waist once you're outside, trying to subtly soak in as much comfort as you can. "Let's go home and get some sleep."

-----

You can feel the weight of the paper from inside your pocket, practically burning a hole in your jeans and in your mind. Glancing down at Remy, you realize she's asleep with her head on your lap. You were waiting for her to drift off, needing to be by yourself when you read the results. Careful not to wake her, you slowly slide yourself out from under her and get to your feet. You grab a blanket off the back of the couch and cover her up then silently make your way back to the bedroom.

Trying desperately to hold back tears and keep your vision clear, you pull the envelope from your pocket and unfold it then open it. Your hands are all but steady as you slowly unfold the paper. For a moment you squeeze your eyes shut, terrified to look. Standing there hiding from it isn't going to get you anywhere though. Taking in a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes again and squint through your tears.

Traces of hCG.

You slowly crumple the paper and sink to your knees beside the bed.

* * *

**Note: **I realize y'all may have mixed feelings, but just...Trust me on this.


	30. Chapter 30

**Glaukopis:** Thank you. 'Be not afraid' (-lmao-) I plan on giving Wilson a decent role...bc I love Wilson. It doesn't get much better than Wilson! Sorry if the 'traces of hcg' was a throw off. My bad.  
**Ilessthree: **Does that happen often? The mouth moving but no words coming out thing? xD ILU. Baha. Anyway! I'm banning you from procrastinating on studying.  
**...!:** I feel like I need some witty acronym to reply to this. Because my name is an acronym, I'll use the B.I.D.N.A.R. part of it. xD  
**Kirei:** She's pregnant. It's not from other things. Feel good things! K? K.  
**Lessthan13: **Haha. I want to do that from now on. Just...eat my homework. ...Keep remembering you Trust me. Ha.  
**Little:** 'Be not afraid'! I have a plan. The hCG is from the pregnancy. No other reason.  
**Final:** I know what I'm doing. I've had this planned since chapt 2. Chase screaming /would/ be nice.  
**Ilive:** Yup. More conflict ftw. Wilson seems like the best to have Cameron trust. He's so adorable. Bahaha.  
**JB: **Heyyy. I know you! -wink- It's not false...or...anything that would make it false. It's positive. Fer realz. It's been 12 days, if I've been counting right.  
**Miralinda: **Yes, she's pregnant. This chapt addresses the father issue.  
**Esuedros:** Finding out by chance would end way too badly.  
**Enigmatic: **...better keep trusting. xD  
**Bigblusky: **It's not a false alarm.  
**91:** Thank you!  
**Kills:** It's not a false alarm. ...That felt redundant. xD  
**Eva:** Yeah. She needs to start doing some things herself.  
**Set: **Have you ever seen Repo? There's a contest going on on deviantart for ppl to make body parts. I was almost inspired to make an iron heart for it.  
**Meva:** It'd be impossible for it to be her first husbands. She'd had to have gone thru the whole sperm thing and what-not.  
**Floating: **Nothing ever goes in better ways with me...er...most of the time.  
**Pink: **It's not a false alarm. And Remy finding out by accident wouldn't be good.  
**A fan: **...I feel a lack of trust here...Heh.  
**Charmed: **Thank you!  
**Nameless: **...All that whining and begging...and all I get is "oh shit"? xDDDD ilu  
**Shelby: **Thank you!  
**Amazon: **...did you just figure out I'm evil? Ha. No dying. I don't offer insurance!  
**Katie: **Thank you! We need to skype sometime.  
**Winterfell: **Thanks so much for reviewing! Hopefully the wait didn't make you suffer too much!  
**YDPP: **I'm glad you didn't die. I choked on water the other day and nearly did die. Not fun. xP Well, Foreman said Joe was brought to the hospital and Cuddy had him transferred when she heard what happened...explaining how other people know.  
**Rainbow: **Thanks!  
**Lessthan13**: ...I have no comment on this pregnancy sex thing. Lol.  
**Alexis:** Thanks so much!

Once more...trust me on this. I have a plan! K? K. -smile-  
Anyway....I got my vid from Olivia! And still melt every time I think about it.  
youtube /watch?v=OkHLUmo1rNM

* * *

**Remy's POV:**

The living room is dark when you open your eyes and you're slightly shocked to be alone. If it's nighttime, it's logical Cameron is probably asleep, but you're surprised she didn't just curl up on the couch with you. Sighing, you roll over onto your back and drape your arm across your eyes. Not having Cameron by your side while you're at home makes everything feel off. Instead of enjoying the break from her clingy-ness, the room feels too empty.

Part of you tells yourself to just forget it and go back to sleep. Cameron probably set the alarm and she'll wake you in the morning. The blanket on the couch feels cold compared to the warmth you get from holding her at night though. Not liking the feeling she's making you soft, you quickly tell yourself you should only go back to the bedroom incase she gets scared waking up with you not there. Rubbing your eyes with your thumb and pointer finger, you slowly sit up then get to your feet.

Bothering to turn on the light seems pointless and you try not to run into any of your furniture as you make your way from the couch and back toward the bedroom. Halfway down the hall, the nightlight from the bedroom at least helps you see clear enough that you don't stub your toe on the dresser by the bedroom door for the umpteenth time.

A brief flash of panic nearly makes you freeze up when you notice the bed is empty a second after you walk inside the room. Your heart seems to resume beating and you let out an inaudible sigh of relief when you notice her sitting on the floor. The relief is almost immediately replaced with concern. "Hey," you say quietly, trying not to startle her as you walk over. She's sitting beside the bed with her knees pulled close to her chest. Upon further squinting through the dim light, you realize her cheeks are tearstained and she's clutching tightly to your hoodie. "Why are you in here all alone?"

"If I tell you, you'll be angry," she whispers, not tearing her eyes away from a spot on the wall she's staring at. Despite that her eyes are glazed over and her expression is emotionless as if she's in shock, she hugs your hoodie tighter and buries the lower half of her face against the fabric.

You furrow your brow in confusion and slowly kneel down in front of her, watching her shrink further away from you. She looks so small and fragile that you're not sure you could be mad at her even if you tried. "What makes you think I'll be angry at you?" you ask, wondering what she could have possibly done to get her this worked up.

"You're going to make me go home," she mumbles, her voice cracking. She lifts a shaky hand and rubs at her face as she scoots further away from you and into the corner. She buries her face against your hoodie and her legs and brings her arms up to cover her head like she's trying to hide from you. "Go away," she pleads, her voice barely audible.

"Allison, whatever happened, it can't be that bad," you assure her. There is no way in hell you'd let her go back to her house like this, even if she wanted to leave. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to think. At least you got a few hours of sleep, because it seems like it's going to be a long night with her. Sighing, you scoot forward and grab her arm, carefully sliding her across the hardwood floor and away from the wall. "Talk to me."

"I _can_'t," she mumbles, her voice thick with tears. Sniffling, she shakes her head. "You're going to make me go _home_."

You try not to sound exasperated as you let out a long breath through your mouth. You sit down against the wall and pull her so she's sitting between your legs. You gently force her to move her legs away from her body enough that you can slide your injured arm around the front of her. "What's going on, Allison?" you ask a bit more firmly. It's impossible to tell if she's even paying attention to you while she's covering her face so you gingerly push her arms down. "Did I say something to make you think you have to leave?"

"No," she chokes, shaking her head. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to look away from you, an ashamed look on her face. Her breaths are starting to come in short, shuddery gasps.

"Then why are you crying?" you ask, pulling her closer. You cradle her head against your shoulder, letting your hand rest on her forehead. "And don't say because I'm going to make to go home, because you're not going anywhere." When she doesn't respond, you move your hand away from her forehead and rest you cheek there, wracking your brain for reasons she could be upset and ways to comfort her. Trying to adjust your injured arm into a more comfortable position, you glance down at her name on your cast. "Allie, Sweetheart, what's wrong? Hmm?" you murmur, trying to keep your voice as soothing as possible.

She sobs quietly and pulls away, inching across the floor until she's sitting slightly beside you. She slowly holds out a fisted hand, the corner of a crumpled sheet of paper barely visible between two of her fingers. "I had Wilson do it," she whispers, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye before immediately looking back down at the floor. Her chin quivers and a new wave of tears fill her eyes.

You tilt your head to the side on confusion and place your palm under her fist for her to drop the paper on. She continues to clutch it so tightly her knuckles have turned white. "Let me see, Allie," you try to convince her, gently prying her fingers away until the ball of paper falls into your hand. You watch her for a moment as she buries her face in her hands and slowly starts swaying herself. You carefully unwrinkle the paper, placing it on your legs and trying to straighten it out with your hand a few times so you can read it.

Whatever you expected, it wasn't the results from a pregnancy test. "Fuck," you hiss under your breath, letting the paper rest on your lap as you stare at it and run your fingers through your hair. You lean your head back against the wall and glance over at her. You're pissed off, but not at her. The only thing you can feel for her right now is pity. She didn't deserve for any of this to happen to her. "You still have options, Allison."

"I don't want your options," she whispers, furiously shaking her head. "Life is precious."

"It's not a life yet," you answer, exasperated and overwhelmed. "You can't _keep _it."

"Don't make me get rid of it," she pleads, curling her arms up over her head again. "I won't be able to live with myself, Remy," she cries. "I can barely live with myself _now_."

"It's your choice," you answer. It's not like you can make a choice like that for her or force her to do anything. "How are you going to live with yourself with a kid though? Every morning, you're going to wake up and you're going to see it and you're going to remember what happened. Do you want that the rest of your life? You'll get over getting rid of it, Allison. It's tissue. It's not alive yet."

"How can you say that?" she whispers, lifting her head and glaring at you through her tears. "It's a _baby_, Remy."

"It's your egg, his sperm, and cells," you reply, looking down at the paper. "That's not a baby." Staring down at the assumed time of conception, you furrow your brow in confusion. "How long have to been here?"

"What?" she whispers, wiping at her eyes. With a shuddery breath, she closes her eyes and rubs her face. "I don't know," she mumbles, her voice still breaking. "About two weeks."

You rub your face, your hand muffling a string of colorful words. "It's not his," you murmur, tossing the paper back to her. "Look at the date, Allison."

She stares at you for a moment before slowly picking up the piece of paper. Her eyes widen as she notices for apparently the first time the part that says she's about four weeks along. "Oh god," she breathes, a mixture of relief and new fear in her expression. "That means it's Chase's." Tears start spilling down her face again and she lets the paper fall to the floor then runs her fingers through her hair. "We used protection," she whispers, hugging her knees closer and burying her face against your hoodie again.

You run a hand through your hair then push yourself to your feet. Putting your hand out in front of you, you brace yourself against the wall and try to think. You can hear her sobbing behind you, but you're unsure whether to comfort her or not. Now that you know it's Chase's, that means it's partially her fault, and you're pissed off at her carelessness. Whatever they used as protection, it wasn't enough. "Fuck!" You pull back then slam your fist hard against the wall.

Cameron shuffles back into the corner. "I told you you'd be angry!" she chokes, hugging her knees tighter. "Now you're going to make me go home…"

"What am I supposed to do?" you explode, your fear coming out in a burst of anger. You turn to face her, throwing your hands in the air. "I like you Allison, but I don't know if I like you that much." You regret the words as soon as they escape your lips. It terror and the reality she's going to have a kid talking. You like her a lot more than you've ever liked anyone.

"What am I supposed to do?" she whispers weakly. "R-Remy, I love you. Please, don't make me get rid of it." She shakes her head, shrinking back further against the wall. "I'm scared. What do I do?"

Tilting your head up, you close your eyes tightly and let your hand rest on your forehead. You need time to think and to process things. Not that it will help. No matter how much you think, she's still going to be pregnant. You didn't sign up for a kid, and you sure as hell didn't sign up for Chase's kid. Maybe Chase was right anyway. Unable to get your thoughts in a straight line, you drop your hand back down to your side and tilt your head down to look at her. "Get a new charity case that actually likes kids," you reply flatly.

"Remy, please!" Cameron cries.

You don't wait around to hear the rest of it. You're beginning to wish you never woke up. Turning, you walk from the room and back to the couch then curl up with your back to the living room.

Batman jumps up onto the bottom of the couch, then inches up beside you on his belly. He wags his tail against the cushion a few times then rolls over onto his back and begins wiggling.

Even though Cameron hadn't cheated on you and it wasn't all her fault, you feel almost betrayed by her. Biting back tears as you realize whatever you had will never amount to anything now, you slowly reach over and stroke the dog's soft stomach. "Everything is so fucked up," you whisper, pulling him closer and burying your face against his fur. "What did I get myself into?" You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, willing yourself to go back to sleep so for a few hours, you can pretend the last few weeks have just been one giant nightmare.

Your chin begins to tremble and you get disgusted at yourself for feeling something. You don't want it to sink in that she's pregnant and your relationship is over. You want to pretend like it never started. You slowly get up again and walk clumsily toward the kitchen, squinting through your blurry vision. Despite that Cameron has been in your medicine cabinet, the Ecstasy is exactly where you left it. You're shocked she hasn't put it through the garbage disposal, but maybe she kept it there to prove to herself she could trust you.

You grab the pills and look them over for a moment, debating on what you want to do. Anything is better than giving in to tears. You wipe at your eyes with your arm and tighten your grip on the bag containing the pills. As much as you need to take time to think, you don't want to think. Lower lip trembling against your will, you walk to the door and let yourself out, making sure it's shut behind you.

The walk to Rebecca's apartment seems to take longer than it usually does. It's like in the movies when the hallway continuously just keeps getting longer and the door gets further as you walk toward it. You're not sure whether this is revenge because you feel betrayed or whether you just need to stop caring and have someone care about you. You finally reach the door and knock loudly.

For a moment there's silence but you soon hear Rebecca shuffling toward the door. She opens it and squints at you through lidded eyes. "What are you doing here?" she murmurs, her voice think with sleep. Her gaze shifts to your hand and she sighs. "Remy, you have a-"

"I don't have a fucking girlfriend," you cut her off sharply. You take a step forward and push her further into the apartment then kick the door shut behind you. "Get high with me," you murmur, brushing your lips against hers as you back her up toward the wall.

"You're not thinking straight, Remy," Rebecca murmurs but kisses you anyway. She allows herself to be shoved against the wall. She grabs the bag from your hand, fumbling to get it open.

You rest your uncasted hand on her chest, pulling at the buttons on her pajama top for a moment. It's impossible to get them open fast enough with just one hand. Growling in frustration, you tug hard at the front of her shirt and tear the buttons right off, ignoring the frustrated look she gives you as she pulls away. She tosses two pills in her mouth then lets the bag fall to the ground.

As she kisses you again and you feel one of the pills being passed from her mouth to yours. You're too eager for it to take effect. Swallowing the pill, you shakily work on getting her shirt off then toss it in a random direction.

Rebecca rests her hand on your side then slowly trails it up so it's on your shoulder. She pauses and feels you shaking for a moment before immediately taking control. "I'm going to fuck you senseless," you mumbles, turning and pushing you roughly against the wall.

The moment you begin having second thoughts, the pill slowly begins to take over and you're lost in your perfect world where nothing painful exists.


	31. Chapter 31

**Glaukopis:** Well, I'm very much pro-life, so that should at least give you somewhat of a hint. =] I'm really trying to portray Remy in a way that there'll be sympathy and anger. So, I'm glad that's working out for at least some ppl. I'm really not trying to make people pissed at her. She's just overwhelmed.  
**Little:** Exactly. Who can resist Remy? xD  
**Anonimity: **Your name is fun to say out loud. Lol. Glad you're liking things!  
**Bigblusky:** Well...she doesn't exactly have anyone to open up to. Rebecca is kind of the only person she has to turn to.  
**Meva: **Would you rather it Chase's or Joe's? Ha. It's better off belonging to Chase.  
**Floating: **I think it being Chase's baby makes things a bit easier. It would be harder on her if it was Joe's. Chase drama ftw.  
**...!: **Haha. Well, bidnar stands for Because I Don't Need A Reason. -sends candy to cheer up your soul-  
**Pink: **At least my unpredictability is good for something. I was disappointed in her choice too actually. I was caught between making her drop the drugs or going to Rebecca. A friend suggested the latter and I just kinda went w/ it.  
**Miralinda: **Wow. -hugs Remy- Don't be too angry at her. She's going through a lot too. While Cam has Wilson to turn to, Remy doesn't really have anyone other than Rebecca.  
**Esuedros: **Aw. Thank you!  
**Amazon: **Pssh. Only I know the extent of my evilness. If I showed it through writing...no one would read my stuff anymore. Baha. I give you full permission to slap Remy.  
**JB: **So...I couldn't use the "fuck me" line. Lol. But, it will happen eventually. I'm sure they'll have more fights. xD Cam/Chase woulda made very cute kids. Like I said...you're reading too much into it. Don't worry about Batman. He'll have happiness soon!  
**Winterfell: **I love Twitter followers...even if I do annoy them. xD But hey...at least you get to sit in on my conversations w/ Plush.  
**Charmed: **The baby being Chase's will add difficulty, but it won't be as bad as it would if it were Joe's.  
**Eva: **Eventually Remy will learn.  
**Ilessthree: **No hyperventilating! You need to breathe to be able to review. xP  
**Shelby: **Thank you!  
**A fan: **Trust me, I've gotten myself into enough co-writing drama that I can make light at the end of /any/ tunnel. It's a gift.  
**Lessthan13: **Ew. Chadley. -gag- There's a bunch of people talking about it happily on Twitter now too. It def increases Chase-hatred. Srsly.  
**Ilive: **It's nowhere near over. Thanks!  
**Robert: **I think you've mentioned I'm killing you. Have I mentioned I enjoy torturing my readers? Baha.  
**Enigmatic: **-snuggles-  
**More: **Thanks! Eventually, she'll be able to open up to Cameron. Kinda hard right now w/ Cam having her own issues.  
**S0much: **Or she needs to learn how to be a better friend. Bc I can't exactly write her thoughts, I'll just say she does care for Remy. It's not all about sex.  
**Shan: **Not going with a miscarriage. Cameron would be completely devastated.

So...sorry it took so long to write this chapt. It was based off a personal experience, so it was semi-hard and I had to write, stop, write, stop...but it's finished now. Phew! Hopefully the next one will be easier.  
Anyway...this chapt was inspired by JBlovessharks making me watch Flourish. Go watch it, if you haven't. JMo is epic. -hearts- It's also based off Snow Patrol's How To Be Dead. So if you wanna know some of Remy's feelings during this chapt, I suggest listening to that.  
And, I realized last night who I based Rebecca off of look-wise. She's loosely based off Rebecca Mader (I just realized now they have the same name! Ha. Ironic.). But, yeah, I guess Charlotte off of LOST inspired Rebecca...which I didn't realize until I watched LOST last night.  
Obviously, from my oneshots, I've been feeling really fluffy. So, unless that changes, the angst may actually fade for awhile soon.

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

"I'm fucking serious, Remy! Don't come back until you have your shit together!" Rebecca's shrill voice echoes down the hall, breaking the early morning silence. "If you'd learn to keep your clothes on, you wouldn't have to worry about this!"

"What the fuck, Rebecca?!" Remy yells, her voice laced with rage. "Give me my damn clothes!"

A door down the hall slams and you lean back against the couch, resting your arms behind your head. After a night of crying and no sleep, this is almost music to your ears. Curiosity about why they're fighting doesn't even matter to you. All you care is that Remy isn't getting let off for what she did. Letting your eyes fall shut, you listen as Remy jiggles the doorknob.

"Fuck," she hisses. "Allison!" she yells, knocking. "Could you open the door?"

You crack your eyes open again, staring at the locked door. "Why?" you ask, making no move to get up.

There's a moment of silence. "I'm standing out here in my underwear and it's my apartment," she answers finally in a dangerously low voice. There's another loud knock on the door. "Cameron, open it before I go back to Rebecca's."

You breathe a laugh and shake your head in disbelief, sure that the entire building knows she won't be going back to their landlord's apartment for quite awhile. You slowly get to your feet and walk to the door then peer through the peephole. She's definitely not lying about being left out there in her underwear. "What did you do last night?" you ask, placing your hand on the wall.

"Why are you grilling me with fucking questions?!" she asks, hitting the door once more.

You hit the lock and open the door a crack, placing your foot in front of it so it can't be pushed open more. "What happened to taking a trip next door again?" you ask in an innocent voice, tilting your head to the side. "You forget?"

Remy keeps her arms crossed tightly over the black bra she's wearing, standing stiffly with her legs pressed together. Her hands are clenched into fists, a plastic baggy she's holding just barely visible. "Let me in," she says, narrowing her eyes at you.

You hold your hand out flat. "Give me the drugs," you answer, shaking your head. "Give them to me and then I'll let you come in."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she hisses, trying to push the door open. When she realizes you're not budging, she turns to face you again. "Move."

"Give them to me," you demand, keeping your hand held out. You clench your jaw, unable to help but let the anger that's been bubbling inside of you for weeks out. She hit the final straw. "I have 20/20 on these things," you mutter, your mind jumbled with everything you wish you could say to her. "And things tell me they're in your hand." You reach forward and grab her uncasted hand, yanking it toward you and trying to pry her fingers open to get to the baggy.

"Why don't you just go back to Chase's if you're so against how I do things?" she asks, trying to pull her hand out of your grip.

"I can't go back to Chase's," you snap, shooting her a glare. You clutch her hand with both of yours, one trying to keep her from pulling away and the other trying to get her fingers unclenched.

"No, not anymore you can't," she agrees, shaking her head. "Because you're in deep shit."

"Don't tell me that!" you yell, still trying to get the bag of pills out of her hand. "I already know that. What do I look like?! A fucking moron?" You yank the bag from her hand and tear it open, shaking it and letting the Ecstasy fall to the floor.

"Do you have any idea how much that fucking cost?" she growls, watching as the pills scatter across the floor.

You stomp your foot down on some of them then move on and crush a few more. "I can't hear you because I'm destroying your drugs," you spit, not caring if there's going to need to be some major cleaning done later. Tears begin to sting your eyes and you slam your foot down on the pills, ignoring how she's staring at them in shock. "I should have listened to Chase," you whisper. "I know all about you now."

"You know all about me?" she asks, making hand motions from you to continue. "Well, I know all about you too! What the hell do _you_ know about me?!"

You rub at your eyes and clench your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You don't really even remember what he said, but it had something to do with drugs and women. "I know all about you," you mumble, crossing your arms.

"Great!" she replies with an exaggerated laugh. "I know all about me too!" She throws her hands in the air then slams the door behind her and starts to make her way down the hall.

"Why did you have to go and do that?!" you cry, lifting your head to watch her walk away. "Why did you have to go and sleep with her, Remy?!"

She comes to a halt and spins to face you again, clenching her jaw. She looks exhausted from the comedown from the drugs, her face pale and dark circles under her eyes. "Who are you to tell me who I can and can't sleep with?" she hisses, casting a glance toward the door as if someone is going to start knocking because the two of you are yelling.

"Logica-Logicalistically-Logic…" You try to spit out the word and bite back tears at the same time. "I thought we…" Your voice is softer now and you wrap your arms around yourself, wondering if you had just misunderstood your relationship with Remy.

"What?" she asks coldly, running her fingers through her tangled hair. "You thought we were girlfriends? We had something and obviously it didn't work. You're alone in this now, Cameron."

The word 'alone' triggers something in your head. "Why would you say that?" you whisper, taking a few steps back, walking over the crushed pills again. "Why would you tell me I'm all alone?!" Your feelings are all mixed together and it's impossible to tell whether anger or fear is the leading cause of your distress now.

"Look, Cameron," Remy starts, her voice not quite as strong as you know she means it to be. "I did all I could for you. I-"

_Joe pins you to the ground, having dragged you to a wooded area beside the highway. Your clothes are still on, but he's running his fingers around the waist band of your pants, pushing them down centimeter by centimeter._

"_Please," you beg, your voice hoarse from screaming and the flu. There were no cars on the road. There was no one to hear you. "Please, let me go." Your entire body is wracked with soft sobs, your shaky movements driving the rocks under you harder against your back. "I'll do anything you want."_

"_Keep yelling," he insists. "No one is going to save you, Allison. You think you're alone now? Just wait until I'm finished with you."_

_You cough for a few moments, letting your arms rest limply beside you instead of covering your mouth. Your entire body hurts from your failed attempts at struggling. "Chase," you plead, as if saying his name will make him suddenly appear and save you from Joe. "I don't feel good. I don't feel good. Help!" You start coughing again, turning your head to the side so you can spit on the ground. "I don't feel good. H-help!"_

"_No one is going to help you, Allison," Joe replies. He sits on your stomach, causing the nausea you feel to intensify. Ignoring your guttural groan, he adjusts himself to a more comfortable position. "You think your boyfriend is going to want you after you make love to me?" he asks, kneeling down so his face is inches away from yours. "Do you think anyone is going to want you? I'm going to make you dirty to them. You might as well get used to me, because I'm going to be the only one who wants you. I'll be the only one who wants to touch you, who wants to have sex with you, who wants to be in a relationship with you. You're all alone, Allison."_

"…and I just don't know how to deal with you being pregnant." Remy holds her hands out in front of her, looking desperate. "I'm sorry I slept with her. I'm sorry what I said about Chase. He loves you, Allison."

"He was right," you whisper, her words barely processing. Your lips curl in disgust, mainly for yourself. "Why'd he have to do that?!" You're forced to externally place the blame on Joe, because internally you're blaming yourself and it's too much pain. "It's not fair!" You turn and shove over the table by the door, shattering the lamp. You cry out in anguish and kick at the lampshade.

Remy's eyes widen. "Allison, you're being a bit much," she says, taking a hesitant step toward you. "Please, settle down."

"I'm not being a bit much!" you yell, your voice starting to get hoarse. "I trusted you! I trusted you, Remy! You could have waited until I was gone to move on! I thought you liked me!"

"I love you!" she yells back, throwing her hands in the air. "I took care of you! I brought you home with me! I shot the guy who hurt you! You're not being fair!"

"_You're_ not being fair!" you sob, rocking on your feet. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to provide yourself with comfort. Unable to breathe anymore, you bring your hands up so they're cupping your mouth and nose. "You cheated on me!"

She's silent for a moment, her expression identical to Batman's as he hides in the corner with his tail between his legs. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, tilting her head down. She takes a hesitant step toward you. "Just please calm down before you make yourself sick. The stress isn't good for the baby."

"Why do you care?" you gasp through sobs, taking a step to the side. "You don't even want the baby to live!" You start coughing, choking over your cries. You try to forgive her, for your own sake, but no matter how many times you say _I forgive you_ in your head, there's still a dull ache in your chest. You realize you could have prevented this had you just considered the options for the baby. She would have never gotten upset and run off to Rebecca. Now you're all alone like Joe said you would be. Even though you know you're not thinking logically, you try to convince yourself getting worked up and losing the baby wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. "I don't want a baby," you choke out, furiously shaking your head. "I don't want a baby."

The walls feel like they're closing in and you back yourself against the door, holding your arms out in front of you. You jump as the doorknob presses against your back, terrified of leaving and going home alone. You start shaking with anxiety, unsure of what to do or where to turn. You can feel Remy's fearful gaze piercing right through you and you fight the urge to launch yourself into her arms, though it's getting hard to remember why you're mad at her to begin with.

"Allison, you're scaring me," Remy states, finally closing the distance between you. "Let me help you to the couch." She grabs your arm, not ready for you to crumble to the ground in panic. Trying to catch you, she goes down with you and ends up kneeling beside you. "I'm sorry, okay?" She sounds desperate for you to believe her, probably because she thinks you'll start to relax.

Drawing your legs to your chest, you curl your arms up over your head and try to sink into her embrace. "Make it stop," you plead in a choked voice, nausea beginning to overwhelm your stomach. "I'm going to throw up," you squeak, gasping even harder for breath.

Remy runs her fingers lightly over your arm then gets to her feet.

"Don't leave me alone!" you try to plead, curling one arm tighter over your head. You move your hand down to cover your mouth, suppressing a gag. The tears won't stop falling down your face. Your heaving chest and now stomach make your entire body feel like it's ignited into flames. Getting up to make a rush to the bathroom doesn't even feel possible and you emotionally shrink back into yourself, terrified you're going to shame yourself even more by throwing up on the floor again.

"Here." Remy drops down beside you again and gingerly pries your hand away from your mouth. She carefully holds a plastic tupperware container under your mouth, keeping it steady even as you try to shakily hold it yourself. "I have it," she assures you, managing to hold the bucket with her free hand and get your hair away from your face with the casted one.

You slowly lower your hands and wrap them around your aching stomach, lurching forward slightly as you gag again. Feeling disgusting, you're shocked when she gently pulls you against her, unfazed by your sick.

"Allie, why don't you try to get some water in your stomach so you're not just dry-heaving?" she suggests.

Shaking your head, you push the empty container away with a trembling hand when you're sure you're not going to gag again. "I want to start-start over," you beg in a hoarse voice, slowly beginning to rock yourself.

"What do you want to start over with?" she whispers, placing the container on the floor. You places a hand on your shoulder, trying to get you to stop the soothing, repetitive motion.

"Everything," you cry, rocking yourself harder. "I c-can't have you n-now. I can't t-take the Zoloft n-now. I don't w-want a baby." She stops trying to get you to quit rocking and envelopes you in an embrace, trying to soothe you by rocking you herself. "I can pretend you didn't do anything," you mumble, shrinking against her. "I can _pretend_. I want to-to start ov-over."

"I know," she whispers. Her grip on you loosens again and you feel her slowly inching away. "But you can't."


	32. Chapter 32

**Glaukopis: **Thanks!  
**Ilessthree: **...Hahahaha. Logicalistically...I loved that review.  
**JB: **You only missed one or two that I twisted around a bit. xD  
**Imagine: **Personal experiences. Though...not as bad as what happened to Cameron. Thanks for reviewing!  
**Anonimity: **Thanks for reviewing!  
**Shan: **Thank you!  
**Notquite: **Thank you SO much!  
**Eva: **Haha. I dunno how much I'm into fluff anymore.  
**Alexis: **Twins?! Omw. I bet they're so adorable!  
**...!: **Don't hate Remy. :( It'll all get better. Or well...that could be a lie. But...still!  
**Little: **I really can't imagine Cameron aborting either. I could see her leaving Chase though. Tonight was even sadder though. I was sobbing.  
**Bigblusky: **Yeah. See. Remy's logical...er...sometimes.  
**Winterfell: **Haha. I'm still waiting for you to recruit more Rabidnar/Plush shippers. We do make the best couple. xD  
**Shelby: **Thank you so much!  
**Amazon: **Haha. Would anything I would have typed given you confidence?  
**Pink: **Aw. I teared up during this chapter.  
**Charmed: **Sorry it was short. Thanks for reviewing!  
**More: **Cameron /is/ unstable though. She's scared and hurting. And, well, Remy had her own way of coping.  
**Miralinda: **Agreed. But...she did it anyway.  
**Melissa: **Thanks for reviewing! Enjoy the ride!  
**Enigmatic: **Aw. No hate! -hands you a peace sign- Haha.  
**Floating: **Well, your puppy eyes are cute, but...  
**Ilive: **Thanks for reviewing!  
**Lessthan13: **Haha. Rebecca does have morals...she just doesn't always listen to them.  
**Lafite: **Thanks! You are fantastic for reviewing! xD  
**Esuedros: **I can't answer those. xD  
**.I Talk: **It didn't upset me, but I cannot see Cameron getting rid of her baby. No matter who it belongs to.  
**Bleed: **Thank you so much!  
**Sadako: **Thanks so much!

Omg...if one more person mentions 'rollercoaster'...!  
Ladies, Gentlemen, and Kevin (if you ever get to this chapt!). Please keep all hands and feet inside the story at all times. An emergency exit is located at the top right hand corner of the screen. Please do not ride this ride if you have extreme anger and could potentially injure your computer. Please be careful not to choke, go into cardiac arrest, or ultimately die while reading my writing! Enjoy the ride and remember to hit the review button on your way out!

Anyway! So...I'm toying the with the idea of a Wilson POV chapt. Oh...and I'm sorry if this chapt sucks. I'm honestly...in a state of pure exhaustion.

* * *

**Remy's POV:**

Sleeping with Rebecca seemed like a much better idea in your head when you were angry. Now you're mentally cursing yourself for being the stupidest person alive. You and Cameron have already started over so many times and you managed to mess up each one. It's time to start working through it because the more you pretend something didn't happen, the more Cameron is going to be holding inside. You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes for a moment to try to ward off a headache before slowly getting to your feet. "The floor is a mess," you state, leaning forward and placing your hands under her elbows. "Sit on the couch." You try to help her get up.

"I don't want to move," she mumbles, furiously shaking her head. She scrubs at her eyes, staying put on the floor. "Stop touching me." She pushes your hands away then crosses her arms between her stomach and legs and buries her face against her knees.

You stand up straight again and run your fingers through your hair. All you want is to get dressed and sleep for the next day or so. It's not like work is going to happen any time soon anyway if you can't get Cameron up. "Just a moment ago, you wanted-"

"I don't know what I want!" she cries, uncrossing her arms and wrapping them around her legs. "Just…go get dressed." She shakes her head and wipes at her eyes with her upper arm. "It's fine. Go get dressed."

If only it were that easy. You wish you could just get dressed and then everything would go back to like it normally was. "I'm not going to get dressed until you get up off the floor," you answer. "There's glass and Ecstasy all over the place. Now, please, get up, Allison. Neither of us are fine."

"And it's all my fault, right?" she whispers, tucking her face against her legs.

You press your palms to your eyes, fighting against walking away. "I didn't say th-"

"What do you mean, you didn't say that?" Cameron mumbles, choking back sobs. "You told me to go get a new charity case and then you went and slept with your landlord, Remy! And you're going to blame what you did on my baby, aren't you?! Just so you don't have to take responsibility for your actions!"

"Oh, and _you're_ taking responsibility for yours?" you snarl before you can stop the words from leaving your mouth. "You're making minimal attempts to get better! I can't convince you to sleep! I don't even know when the last fucking time you _ate_ was!"

"Every time I close my eyes, I see him, Remy!" she yells, hugging her knees even tighter. "_Every time I close my eyes_! And I feel him…when I sleep, I feel him on me. And I hear, I hear his voice in my…in my head. And…and I can't eat, because I feel sick _all the time_! How…how am I supposed to, supposed to eat when I, when I feel like I'm going to throw up all the t-time? And I'm always…I'm always scared, and I'm angry at - at everything!"

"Allison, breathe…" You kneel down beside her but keep your distance.

"Shut up and listen to me!" she sobs, furiously shaking her head. "I _can't_ kill this baby! I don't want to give it away. It's mine. You have no idea how long I've wanted a baby. No idea! I thought that Chase and I, that we would have this great family and with three kids and a picket fence. I'm not getting back together with Chase. He is my best friend, but I realize that that's the only way I'll ever be able to love him. That going back to him, it wouldn't, it wouldn't last. But what about five years from now? What if I give it away or kill it and five years from now I wonder what my little boy or girl would have been like; with that blonde hair and those blue eyes…I don't want this baby right now, but what if a month from now or a year from now I do? I'm taking responsibility and I'm not going to kill my baby or let it be without its mother."

You sit back on your bottom and bend your knees, letting your elbows rest on your legs and your head in your hands. "I had no right to ask you to get rid of it." Tears are welling up in your eyes and you try to hold them back, lifting your head so your hands are covering your mouth and nose. "And I should have _never_ had sex with Rebecca while I was with you. I'm sorry." You sniffle and quickly wipe at your face before any tears can escape down your cheeks. "Let me call Cuddy for you. You can stay with her and you'll be a lot better off than here with me."

Cameron lifts her head from her legs and crosses her arms over her knees. "I don't want to stay with _Cuddy_," she chokes, not bothering to fuss over the tears streaming down her face. "This isn't fixable. I get it. But I'm not…I'm not going to ask you to be my girlfriend again. I'm not even asking you to be my friend now! We can, we can find a way to keep this professional with you as my doctor. Just…just give me a few months to get back on my feet. I promise I'll start trying harder. I'm just asking you to _help me_. What are you so afraid of, Remy?"

You clear your throat and brush your hands against your pants. "Come on," you reply, moving so you're on your knees. "Go back to bed. I'll get you a glass of water and you can relax while I call Cuddy."

"No," Cameron answers, shaking her head. She buries the lower half of her face against her legs and faces forward. "No, I'm not going. I want to know what's going through your head. Then…then maybe I'll move." She sniffles a few times then wipes at her eyes and nose.

Sitting back on your legs, you rest your hands on your knees. It's a lengthy mental debate that never really gets passed the words _pretend it's nothing and look strong or be vulnerable and look weak._ "Do you have _any _idea what you're getting yourself into with me?" you ask finally. "I'm not just _dying_, Allison, I'm _deteriorating. _In a few years, I won't be here anymore, even if I'm here physically."

She stares forward for a moment before clenching her jaw and turning her head to face you. "You're here now," she answers. "You're still going to be here tomorrow and next month. Just…give me some time."

"Why?" you ask, your voice slightly choked. "Why when every minute I spend with you, I wish even more than before that I wasn't dying so it would work? What if five years from now _I_ want you and that kid? You're not the only one who has something to be scared about, Allison."

"Well, we're right here," Cameron whispers, placing her hand on her stomach. "We're right here now and we're still going to be here five years from now if you want us - whether you're healthy or you're sick. We'll love you and we'll want you. You just have to _let_ us. That means not running away and getting high with some friend with benefits whenever things get too hard."

"You really want to bring some innocent kid into this mess?" you ask, shaking your head, tears threatening to spill down your face. "What if things did work? What if we were close? When my mother-"

"I'm sorry if things went down bad between you and your mother," she cuts you off. "Really, Remy, I am. But is that what you're scared about now that I'm pregnant? That if you allow yourself to get close, it'll be like a repeat of your past? You're not your mom and this baby is not you."

"I'm sorry," you whisper, suddenly feeling like you can't say it enough. You wipe at your eyes even though the effort is futile. Exhaustion is beginning to wear you down even further and you're finding it hard just to think. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch." You run your fingers through your hair, wondering where the two of you even go from here; how you work through it and move on without pretending to start over.

"I'm sorry too," Cameron replies, nodding her head. "I just…It's really hard to think straight right now." She wipes at her face before crawling over to you and wrapping you in a tight hug. "You'll think about what I said, right?"

You're frozen to your spot, finding it hard not to concentrate on how she's pressed up against your mostly unclothed body. Her tears against your skin make it easier not to let your thoughts wander too far though. You nod and slide your arms around her, placing your good hand against the back of her head. Her forehead is warm against your shoulder, though low-grade temperatures are common with pregnancy and she had just thrown up not that long ago. Sighing, you gently rub the back of her head and tuck your face against her hair. "Go to bed," you mumble in her ear, knowing the sooner you get her there, the sooner you can get yourself there. "I'll bring you back some crackers and ginger ale, then I'm going to clean up the living room."

"Can I just have an hour?" she murmurs, sounding desperate. "I don't think I can keep them down, Remy. I feel like I'm going to be sick again." She hesitated. "Are you sure you don't need help cleaning up? I made the mess."

You let out a breath and move your hand down to her back, rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades. "I can clean it up. I'm going to call Wilson and see if he can find anything to settle your stomach, okay? Take the bucket back to the bedroom with you and try to sleep."

"Promise me we can fix this," she whispers, her grip on you tightening a bit. "I-I want to fix this, Remy."

"We'll try to fix this." You still don't feel like you can promise her anything. Keeping a hold on her, you grab the plastic container then get to your feet and pull her up with you. "Come on."

"I can't move," she whispers in a trembling voice, her grip loosening.

She's shaking in your arms and you carefully back over to the couch, sitting and lowering her down onto your lap. "Are you going to throw up again, Allie?" you ask, unsure if you can possibly feel any worse for her when she nods and starts crying again. "It's okay," you quickly try to comfort her with the first thing that comes to mind as you support the container under her chin again. You somehow manage to hold the bucket with your casted hand then pull her hair back and rub her back with your other hand.

Cameron wipes at her cheeks a few times, taking shaky breaths through her mouth. She slides her arms around her stomach as she leans forward and retches again, her stomach actually managing to find something to heave up this time.

You find yourself murmuring whatever comforting words you can think up until she's finally done and slouches against you, choking back sobs. You lean over and place the container on the table, one more thing to add to your clean-up list. "I don't want you out of bed today." Despite feeling weak from a long night, you slide your casted arm under her legs and your good arm around her back then lift her up. She doesn't put up a fight as you carry her back to the bedroom and carefully tuck her into bed, hesitating then deciding to press a kiss to her temple before going back toward the kitchen to get her a glass of water to rinse her mouth out with.

Batman is staring at the mess on her floor, his head cocked to the side. He glances at you almost deviously before lowering his face to the floor.

"No!" you cry, taking several strides forward.

It's too late. He slides his tongue across the carpet where Cameron crushed the pills.

"Oh my God." You quickly scoop him up and try to pry open his mouth but to not avail. "Fuck! She's not going to even let me live to see five years from now now." Grabbing your cell phone, you quickly contemplate calling the vet, but don't want to get in trouble for drug use. "Shit." You dial Wilson's number.


	33. Author's Note:This story is NOT finished

I know you're all going to be disappointed to see this is just a note. I have NOT given up on this story. I've been quite sick w/ BPD and was recently hospitalized for hearing voices. I haven't even taken my finals yet bc I was forced to leave school. I do have half a chapter written and do plan on updating w/in the next week or two.


	34. Chapter 34

Thank you so much for being patient, guys! It means a lot to me! I worked hard to get this chapter done before I leave for vacation tomorrow. I do admit it's a little rushed, especially at the end. I do hope you enjoy it though.  
And thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews. I'm sorry I don't have time to answer you all personally like I usually do since I need to be packing. Next chapter, I will though!  
But really...thank you all so much for supporting me. You're all amazing.

* * *

**Wilson's POV:**

It figures the morning you don't have to get up until late is the day someone decides to call you. Rolling over on your stomach, you bury your face against a pillow and yank the comforter up over your head. "I'm sleeping," you mumble to the phone despite that whoever is calling obviously can't hear you.

The ringtone isn't the one you set for the hospital so it's probably not an emergency. Though, it's not the ringtone you set for House either so it's probably not an annoyance unless he figured out you wouldn't answer him if he called from his own phone.

Groaning, you reach out from under the covers and feel around the nightstand for your cell. The alarm clock goes crashing to the ground and begins buzzing loudly. You freeze for a moment before finally grabbing your phone and pulling it under the blankets with you. Trying to block out the alarm by pulling your pillow over your head, you flip the phone open and press it to your ear.

"What, House?" you mutter, figuring no one else could start your day off like this.

"_Wilson?"_ The thick, female voice on the line definitely does not belong to House.

"Thirteen?" You push away your pillow and throw the comforter back as you sit up. "What's wrong?" Her calling you out of the blue would have you worried enough, but her voice sounds emotional and shaky - not like you've ever heard her sound before. Sitting up, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and yank on the alarm clock cord with your toes to shut it off.

"_Allison's sick," _she starts going off automatically. _"I need someone to go to the store to get her something she's going to be able to keep down. I'd go myself but there's glass all over the floor and I don't have time to get dressed because the dog is high and the lamp is-"_

"Slow down," you cut her off, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you already start looking for clothes to put on. "Did you say the dog is _high_?" You furrow your brows in confusion and try to focus on both the conversation and putting pants on at the same time.

"_Wilson, please, just go to the store and see if you can find anything for nausea,"_ she pleads impatiently. _"I don't know if it's morning sickness, stress, or if she's coming down with something. I don't know."_

You freeze as she mentions 'morning sickness.' _That would mean Cameron is…_You quickly push the thought away and button your pants then reach for your shirt. "Do you need anything for yourself?" you ask her, trying to keep the phone to your ear and wrestle your shirt over your head at the same time. "Or for the dog?" What do you get for a dog that's high? You're not even sure what she meant by that, but you have a bad feeling she meant high off of drugs.

"_No, but I might need someone to take the dog to the vet. He's on one hell of a trip. I have to go."_

You sigh as the phone clicks off and finish putting your shirt on. "They're going to want to know why my dog is high," you mutter under your breath as you shove your cell into your pants pocket then search for your shoes.

xxxxxxxxxx

Thirty minutes later, you find yourself standing outside of Remy's apartment door with a bag in your hand from the local Weis Market. Halfway through your shopping trip, you realized you didn't even know where she lived. Fortunately, Cuddy had been in her office when you called so you didn't have to resort to calling House for an address. "Thirteen, it's Wilson," you call, raising your fist and knocking lightly on the door.

"It's open!" she calls back, her voice slightly stronger than it was on the phone. "Just be careful!"

You turn the handle and push the door open, frowning when you immediately see tiny shards of glass glittering in the carpet and larger ones scattered across the floor next to the lampshade. "What happened?" you ask, glancing up.

Remy is in the corner on her hands and knees in nothing but her underclothes, trying to plug in the vacuum cleaner behind the chair. She doesn't look like she's having much luck though. "Allison knocked the lamp over," she answers simply, grunting and trying to balance herself. The hand that isn't trying to put the plug in the socket is hooked under the dog's collar as he tries to commando crawl toward the door. His legs are flailing in attempt to push himself forward and he's panting in determination, looking like he thinks he might actually be getting somewhere.

"Here. Let me help you." You place the bag down on the floor and hurry over to her then reach down and scoop up the dog. His head lulls to the side and drool trickles from his mouth. "What did he take?" you ask, adjusting the collar around the dog's neck. You stare at him for a moment then glance at her for an answer.

Remy opens her mouth to speak then clamps it shut again. She plugs in the vacuum then gets to her feet and rests her foot against the lever to turn it on. "Allison's in the bedroom," she states. "Don't let her see the dog." She walks away from the vacuum and starts picking up the larger shards of glass.

You stare at her for a moment, watching her uncomfortably avoid your gaze. An idiot could tell she had been as high as the dog the previous night. "You should get some sleep," you state simply. "Let me take care of the dog and Allison. I'll take her back to my house."

She lets out a breath and shakes her head, going to put the pieces in the trash.

Reaching down, you grab the bag and pick it up then adjust it and the dog in your arms. "C'mon, Hulk," you mumble, glad he's small and the squirming doesn't make him impossible to hold. Stepping over the glass, you leave Remy to vacuum and head down the hall. From where you're walking, you can see a corner of the bed in the bedroom and stop beside the door next to it. You know she's going to panic if you take the dog inside.

It's a relief to find the bathroom when you open the door. You carefully lower the dog to the floor and make sure he's out of the way and there's nothing he can get into before closing the door again. "Allison," you warn her you're coming before turning and stepping into the bedroom.

Cameron quickly turns her head and tucks her face against the pillow she's hugging.

"I know you're not sleeping." You walk over to the bed and put the bag down on it then crouch down. "Allison, you need to drink something before you get dehydrated and end up in the hospital." You pull the box of pedialyte from the bag and work on getting it open.

She slowly turns her head, peeking out from behind the pillow slightly. "I can't," she whispers hoarsely. "I'll throw up."

"You're not going to this throw up." You work on opening the bottle then rest it on the bed with your hand around it so it won't fall over. "It's made for kids who are vomiting. It has _bears_ on the bottle."

"You're going to make me leave, aren't you? That's why she called you." Her arms shake as she slowly pushes herself up into a sitting position. "P-please don't…" She lets her voice trail off and muffles a yawn then rubs at her face.

"I'm not making you do anything except drink this." You stand then move to sit beside her on the bed and hand her the bottle. "Drink before I need to get an IV in here," you try to tease her even though you're slightly serious.

She glances at you with an unreadable expression then slowly takes a few sips of the drink.

You place your hand flat on the bed and use it for support as you lean back slightly. "What happened to the lamp, Allison?" you ask, tilting your head to the side a bit.

Her grip on the bottle tightens and she immediately diverts her gaze to the floor, pulling her legs up a bit. "I…I pushed it," she whispers shakily. She puts the bottle between her knees then presses her palms to her cheeks, slowly shaking her head. "I didn't mean to…I wasn't even thinking…I…"

"I know you wouldn't mean to break something." You take the bottle before it can drop and spill then lean over and put it on the nightstand. "Did you push it because of something Thirteen did?" You don't want to pry, but you don't want her bottling things up and making it all worse either.

Cameron opens her mouth to speak then closes it again. She pulls her legs up further and lets her forehead rest against her knees. "I just don't want to lose her," she whispers. "I just…I want it all to be back to normal and I don't want to lose her."

"I don't think you're going to lose her, Allison," you answer, shaking your head. "It seems like she really likes you. She's just not used to this kind of situation or someone like you, and I mean someone like you in a _good_ way. She's doing her best to help you. She might just need you to help her out a little also. What do you need, Allison?"

"I don't know," she answers. She lifts her head then leans forward and grabs her drink a bit.

"Think about it," you reply, watching her. "If you could have anything you can logically get at this moment, what would it be? I'm sure she's willing to help you. Just be clear with what you need from her."

"I need out of here." She traces her finger around the rim of the bottle.

"Out of Princeton?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Out of this _apartment building_," she replies. "Back…back to my own or to a new one. I don't even care. I just…I want to be somewhere I don't have to be scared of losing her."

There's a thump against the wall from the direction of the bathroom and you glance up. "I have to run some errands," you tell her, figuring you should probably get the dog to the vet. "My door is always open for both of you. I'm going to drop by later and make sure you're doing okay, alright?"

"Thank you." She puts the bottle down again and hesitates for a moment before leaning over and hugging you.

You gently hug her back, careful not to startle her. "Talk to Thirteen," you tell her, pull away. "I want a full report when I return, okay?"

"A full report," she confirms quietly. "I think I'm going to sleep first."

"Good," you reply, getting to your feet. "You need it. Make sure she sleeps too." You give her a warm smile as she nods then go to retrieve Hulk…or was his name Joker…

* * *

So will Remy refuse to move? Will they move to Cameron's apartment? Or will Wilson be gaining some new roomies?


	35. Chapter 35

**13:** Oh, hush. It's your fault I'm too distracted by chatting to write updates. xP j/k Isn't ironic is has /bears/ on the bottle? Baha.  
**Ilessthree: **You'll find out next chapt about Batman. Keep in mind, he's a superhero, right?  
**Chase: **Pritty Hairs. xP We don't need a high dog running around. I'm sure we all have our hands full enough with you! And LOL. I'd know who you were no matter what name you use if you type "braindeadz" at the end.  
**Bleedlikeme:** Thanks. Wilson is...interesting to write after how many chapts of the same two POVs.  
**Miralinda:** Wilson /would/ take good care of 'em. Teehee.  
**Floating: **I RP w/ several Wilsons and they always have that guardian angel complex. It's fun including that in my fic.  
**Bigblusky: **Haha. I plan on next chapt being Wilson's POV again so we can get some Wilson/Vet humor.  
**8Bonnie: **Thank you!  
**Esuedros**: Wow. Must have taken you forever to reread the entire thing. o.o It takes me forever when I just skim over it just to make sure I'm not making huge mistakes. And I'm feeling slightly better, thanks!  
**Mm:** Wilson is equal to amazing.  
**Jungle: **Wilson is a superhero too. He can be Batman's sidekick.  
**Esuedros (again xD): **Your questions will be answered in this chapt and in the next one.  
**YDPP: **K. I'll just go with it. xD Glad you liked Wilson's POV. It'll be his POV next chapter too so we can deal w/ Batman and the vet. I'm purposely ignoring your end note. xP  
**Shan: **Who says Thirteen is going to freak out? Haha.  
**Charmed**: I'm feeling a bit better, thanks.  
**Shelby: **Thank you!  
**W.S.C.: **Thank you!  
**Loves:** Thanks so much!

* * *

**Cameron's POV: **

The loud roar of the vacuum cleaner keeps you tossing and turning on the bed. Eyelids drooping, you flop over onto your back and drape your arm across your face as your other arm rests over your stomach. Thoughts of moving bounce around in your head, but you're too exhausted to really focus on them. Every time you try to focus on something, your mind wanders and ends up blank. Sighing, you pull your legs up so your knees are slightly bent and your feet are flat on the bed then sprawl your arms out beside you. Tilting your head to face the door, you wait for the noise in the living room to stop.

After what feels like an hour, but in reality is probably only fifteen minutes, you push yourself up on your elbows. It can't take that long to suck up some glass and crushed pills. You lift one hand to rub your face then push yourself the rest of the way up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

"Remy, are you done with the vacuum?" You can't get your voice loud enough to a point where you think she might hear you. Heaving an exhausted sigh, you get to your feet and use the nightstand to steady yourself until a wave of dizziness passes. With your head starting to pound from the noise interrupting your sleep, you slide your arms around yourself and slowly pad toward the living room.

The vacuum is lying unattended on its back in the middle of the room. After a moment of staring, your gaze shifts to the chair where Remy is sitting hunched over with her face hidden against one hand as her casted hand tries to hold a paper towel against her foot. Pursing your lips together to form a straight line, you watch as her shoulders almost vibrate. You lean down and pull the vacuum's plug out of the wall. She stops crying as if on cue.

"You're just trying to cut off all your limbs now, aren't you?" you murmur, trying to calm her now as you kneel in front of her. "At least you're making sure I don't forget how to work in the ER."

"I really fucked it all up," she chokes, letting your hand replace hers in holding the paper towel against the cut. "I fucked everything up."

"You made a mistake," you whisper, wiping the dried blood off her fingers with a corner of the paper towel. "We're both overwhelmed." The part of your mind reminding you how extreme her mistake was gets blocked out for now. Wilson would support you in your decision to try to trust her again. He was the one who encouraged you to try. "You're human; it happens." Pulling the paper towel back, you make sure she's not bleeding anymore then toss it on the stand beside the shard of glass at fault for the cut.

You get to your feet and walk out to the kitchen, digging through the medicine cabinet until you find a bottle of the Aleve. You dump out four pills onto the counter then recap the bottle and place it back where it belongs. Half afraid you're going to break more glass, you grab a plastic cup from the cupboard and fill it with water. Willing yourself not to feel sick again, you use half of it to wash down two of the pills then carry the cup and other two pills into the living room.

"You're never going to forget what I did to you," she whispers. She lowers her hand from her face and wipes at her nose with the back of it. "Making you try to kill your baby, cheating on you…" Her voice trails off and she takes the pills from you then uses the rest of the water to wash them down before placing the cup on the stand.

"Probably not," you agree, a frown tugging at the corners of your lips. You walk over to the couch, pulling the blanket off the back of it. "But with everything else you're doing for me, I know you'd never mean to hurt me, so I can forgive you." You drape the blanket over your arms then walk back over to the chair. "Forgive me for breaking your lamp?" you ask, crawling up onto the chair beside her.

"I don't care about the lamp," she answers, taking the blanket and spreading it out. "It was five dollars at a yard sale nearly two years ago. Even if it was fifty dollars, I'd still forgive you." She sighs and leans her head back against the chair, looking up at the ceiling. "If I were you, I would have broken more than a lamp. The entire apartment would probably be in shambles right now."

Reaching over the arm of the chair, you fumble along the side of it for a moment before pulling the lever and reclining the back. "It doesn't matter." You stare up at the ceiling too, counting all the tiles in silence. "Can…can I ask you something?" you ask after a bit, hesitatingly glancing at her. "Something important?"

"Yeah." She nods and turns her head to face you, her cheek resting against your forehead. "Of course."

"Wilson said we can move in with him for awhile." It's not really a question, but you weren't sure how else to present it. "I…I really want to."

Letting out a long breath, she pinches the bridge of her nose. "After what I did, I don't want to stay here either," she admits. "Why not your apartment, Allie? We'll have more privacy. It'll be more-"

"I feel safer with you and Wilson," you cut her off, wrapping your arms around yourself. "You'll be able to have time to yourself and I won't have to be all alone or find someone to stay with. It really felt like he wouldn't mind if we stayed with him." Your eyes are beginning to droop again and your roll on your side, trying to ignore the discomfort caused by the amount of bare skin you're pressed up against as you inch closer to her. "Please…"

"I can't make that decision like this," she answers. "Not when I'm this exhausted. I need to sleep on it; I need to think about it."

"We can think about it when we wake up," you answer. If it turns out to be a huge discussion, you're not up for that at the moment anyway. Closing your eyes, you press your face against her collarbone and slowly pull her arm around you.

She sniffles then lets out a slow breath. "I'm deeply sorry for what I did," she whispers. "I…I love you, Allison."

"I know," you mumble in response, beginning to drift off. "I love you too."

She tucks her face against your hair and plays with the hem of your shirt. "Maybe I can learn to love the baby too."

"I hope so," you murmur, voice slurred with sleep. "The baby will love you, Remy. I'm sure it already does."


	36. Chapter 36

**W.S.C**: Any living arrangement would be better than what they have right now.  
**Mm:** Glad you liked it. I've been moving really slow with this whole 'love' thing.  
**Esuedros: **Eventually they'll get better at fixing things...Ha...I hope, anyway.  
**BigBluSky: **Ha. Yes. And omg...another update!  
**Lovesbones: **Yeah, other characters will eventually make more of an appearance. Especially House since they're getting so close to Wilson.  
**Shelby: **Thank you!  
**Miralinda: **Thanks! Here's Wilson's vet visit.  
**Puppy:** Know what else happens when you disappear? I discuss with your friends how they're not real and simply figments of your imagination. xD LOL. Dunk!DragQueen!Hawaiin!Wilson ftw!  
**Jungle: **Heyyy. There's been a few other happy endings...sorta. xP  
**Library: **Thanks a bunch!  
**Shan: **Thank you!  
**Little: **Thanks!  
**Mjadec13: **It just builds the suspense!  
**Kay:** You'll just have to wait and see. Hehe.  
**Charmed: **Finally have been able to update. Woo!  
**Pao**: Thank you!  
**Boo: **I have no plans on giving this story up.  
**Captain: **Thank you so much!  
**Esuedros: **I'm still here!  
**Floating: **Wilson to the rescue! A good dose of Wilson fixes everything, am I right?  
**Ilessthree: **Getting out of bed is so overrated.

Y'all don't wanna hear all the long stories of why I update so slow. So anyway. Here's an update!

* * *

**Wilson's POV:**

The chairs in the veterinarian's office are ten times more uncomfortable than that of the chairs in the waiting room at the hospital. Pulling at the collar of your shirt and pretending not to see everyone else staring, you adjust Batman on your lap so he won't squirm off and fall to the floor. It's only logical that they don't know what happened and are simply looking at Batman in concern, but something in you is convinced they're all disgusted that you would drug up your dog. _I didn't drug him. It's not even my dog! _Your thoughts don't seem to get the message across and other pet owners continue to study the only animal in the room that's flopping around and making a puddle of drool on the floor.

"Excuse me!" A shrill voice breaks through the multiple animal noises in the room. "Excuse me, Mister!"

Small tennis shoes suddenly appear inches in front of you on the floor and you realize that you're the one being spoken to. Clearing your throat, you slowly lift your head to come face to face with a girl who can't be any older than five. "Yes?" you answer rather sheepishly, readjusting Batman on your lap again.

"What happened to your dog?" the child asks, drawing out each word and cocking her head to the side. She squats down so she's eye-level with Batman and stares at him. "Why's he acting so weird?" she questions, resting her hands on her knees. "Is he sick?"

"He just ate some bad food," you stammer quickly, glancing up as one of the vets walks through the door. "He'll be okay though."

"James Wilson?" Your escape stands in the doorway clad in forest green scrubs and a white lab coat. "James Wilson and…" She glanced down at the clipboard she's holding, taking a moment to tuck a few strands of blonde hair behind her ear. "Hulk?"

On second thought, you'd rather stay with the child. "Right here." Carefully ushering the child out of your way, you get to your feet and clutch Batman against your chest. The veterinarian glances over at you and you look down, avoiding her piercing blue eyes as you walk over. "This is…I think his name is Hulk." You motioned toward Batman with your freehand.

"Think?" The vet confirms. She motions for you to follow and walks back through the door. "It's not your dog?"

"A friend's," you respond, shaking your head. "He ate something off of the floor." You stop behind her when you enter an exam room.

"Do you know what it was?" She turns to face you. "Dr. Adler, by the way," she introduces herself. "If you'd put the dog here." She motions to the metal table in the middle of the room.

"Some kind of drug," you answer with an inaudible sigh, placing Batman on the table. He's still squirming, so you keep your hand on his back to hold him still. You realize you should have gotten that information before you left Remy. "I'm not sure what kind."

"Over the counter medicine? Street drugs?" Dr. Adler tries to jog your memory as she grabs a cart of vet instruments and pulls it over closer to the table. "If you can't give me the exacts, he may need his stomach pumped."

"I really have no idea," you answer, shaking your head. You grab your phone from your pocket and flip it open, searching to see if you can find Cameron or Remy's cell phone number. "It wasn't - I didn't…" You feel like sighing again, not wanting to cause even more issues for Cameron. "He was at my house and I wasn't watching him. He could have gotten into anything."

"You shouldn't volunteer to watch someone's dog if you're not going to bother to puppy-proof you home," Dr. Adler admonishes. She shakes her head and motions your hand out of the way, replacing it with her own. "You can wait in the waiting room."

You open your mouth to speak then close it again and rub your face. "Just keep me updated." Shoving your phone deep into your pocket again, you turn and head out of the exam room, walking back to the waiting room to wait for news.

xxxxxxxxxx

The pictures that litter the walls of the waiting room look like they belong in a child's bedroom. Images of cartoon dogs playing a board game and cats with large heads stalking mice swirl in your brain as there's not much more to think about. You could be thinking about patients at the hospital, how Cameron and Remy are holding up, or even just what's taking so long with Batman, but focusing isn't easy.

"I have a bird too." The little girl from before you took Batman into the exam room is standing in front of you again. "Oh, and this one time, I brought a frog in the house, but I couldn't keep it. D'you like frogs?" she asks, not giving you enough time to answer. "I like frogs. But they eat bugs. I don't like bugs. I don't think anyone likes bugs. Do you like bugs? That's weird if you like bugs."

You glance toward the woman who you assume is her mother. She sinks back in the chair and lifts the magazine she's holding higher so it covers her entire face.

The child rests her hands on your legs and kicks at the floor, tilting her head to the side. "Where's your puppy?" she questions. "It's taking a lot time. I have to wait for my cat. She's having babies. And they have to cut her open and take them out. They get to see her insides. But it's okay. They'll make sure all her insides stay inside of her. Except her babies. They have to take them out. Oh, and-"

"James Wilson?" Dr. Adler appears in the doorway again.

"I'm sorry, but that's me." You pat the little girl on the head and gingerly move her hands from your leg then get to your feet. "How is he?" you inquire, walking toward the vet. "Can I take him home?"

"He should be fine," Dr. Adler answers, tucking her clipboard under her arm. "We're going to keep him overnight for observation though. If you want to stop by in the morning, you'll most likely be able to pick him up. I'd recommend sending his real owners for him though just out of precaution for his safety."

"I promise this won't happen again," you assure her, figuring that Remy will be too busy with Cameron for a trip to the Vet's office in the morning. "I'll take him straight from here to his owner." Glancing around, you scratch your head. "You're not going to report that I brought in a drugged dog, right?"

"My main concern is the animal," Dr. Adler replies. "What you have in your home is your business." She hands over the clipboard. "I just need you to sign so we can keep him overnight."

You grab the clipboard and a pen from her and quickly scribble down your name beside the blue 'x'. "Take good care of him," you state, handing the items back. The last thing any of you need is for something to happen to the dog.

"The best," she assures with a slight smile. "Go puppy-proof your home."

xxxxxxxxxx

After a stop at Walmart, you find yourself driving back to Remy's apartment with a puppy-gate taking up the entire back seat of your car. It had taken at least an hour to choose the right one. There were wooden ones, metal ones, plastic ones, ones that folded, ones that latched onto the wall, etc. You finally decided on a simple plastic gate that could easily be leaned against the wall.

You park and glance back to see if there's a way to move the box in case Cameron and Remy decide to return home with you. Remy shouldn't be driving while coming down from drugs and, well, Cameron shouldn't be driving period. Unfortunately, there's no space to fit another person and there's not enough room to fit both of them up front without looking suspicious to passing-by police.

Exhaling, you climb out of the car and walk toward Remy's apartment, wondering if the two of them are still sleeping. It's obvious they both need a good sleep. It makes you hesitant to knock, afraid that you'll wake them both up. Once you reach the door, you tap it lightly.

"Who is it?" Remy's voice immediately responds.

"Wilson," you answer, placing a hand flat against the wall, next to the door. "I just wanted to let you know that everything is okay."

"Can you come in?" Remy asks. "The door is open."

You slide your hand down the wall and to the door handle then turn it and push the door open. "Are you two okay?" you ask immediately, concerned for both of them without even needing a new reason.

Remy is sitting upright on the chair with Cameron curled up down near the lifted part of the reclined chair, her face buried against Remy's lap. Letting out a long exhale, Remy slides her fingers through Cameron's hair and slowly shakes her head. She opens her mouth to speak then shuts it again, twirling Cameron's hair loosely around her fingers.

Cameron curls her legs up tighter, murmuring inaudibly and hunching her shoulders. Her grip on Remy's bare leg tightens, her nails visibly digging into the skin.

"Shhh," Remy tries to shush her, her hand almost instinctively grabbing a plastic Tupperware container from the arm of the chair. The hint of the scent of vomit in the air signals exactly what it's for. "You're okay," she murmurs, seeming suddenly oblivious to you, her entire attention focused on Cameron. "Just sleep, Sweetheart."

Cameron's shoulders loosen again and she wraps her arm around her head, entangling her fingers in her own hair. She lets out a long sigh as Remy rests her hands on her back, slumping further against the younger doctor's lap.

"The two of you can't stay here alone," you cut in, shaking your head. "You're going to exhaust yourself. She's already exhausted herself."

"Yeah, I know," Remy murmurs, her eyes focused on Cameron. She swallows and closes her eyes, lifting one hand to rub her forehead. "She wants us to stay at your house. I'm not going to argue with her."


	37. Chapter 37

So...things have basically been horrible lately. That's the only explanation I have. Hopefully they'll turn up and I'll write more frequently. This chapt is short and not good...but better than nothing, right? R&R, please.

* * *

**Remy's POV:**

"It gets chilly in here at night, so I pulled an extra comforter out of the closet," Wilson says, stopping in the doorway of his guest bedroom and picking a piece of fuzz off of the black and brown striped blanket in his arms. "Do you need anymore pillows?"

"I think we're good," you whisper, tucking the gray comforter already on the bed up around Cameron's shoulders. She shivers under the thin material and you're already eager to climb into bed with her and hug her against your warm body. Exhaling slowly through your mouth, you smooth the blanket down by her sides then tenderly brush her hair away from her face. Even though she's sleeping, anxiety and exhaustion are clearly written across her features in the form of an occasionally wrinkling forehead and screwed shut eyes. "Do you have a nightlight?" You turn to face Wilson, ignoring light-headedness that nearly overwhelms you.

"The light in here dims," Wilson answered. He turns the rounded knob until the room is only semi-lit. "You should get some sleep." He holds his arms out, offering the blanket to you.

Your limbs and brain barely seem to be working on the same level and you feel like a zombie as you walk over to him and lift the comforter out of his arms. "Yeah," you agree in a murmur. Never before have you been _this_ exhausted coming down from Ecstasy, which is saying something. Come to think of it, you've never been this exhausted in your entire life from anything. You're starting to feel disconnected from reality and in a dreamy daze. Depersonalization would be the medical term. You roll your eyes at yourself for trying to diagnose your symptoms of obvious sleep deprivation and carry the blanket over to the bed.

Cameron stirs and murmurs in her sleep. She sniffles and rubs at her nose as she rolls onto her side, facing the center of her bed. "Remy?" she mumbles, stretching her arm out.

"I'm right here, Allie," you reply quietly, unfolding the comforter as you stand next to the side of the bed where you're going to sleep - or at least where you hope you're going to get some sleep. "It's okay. I'm just fixing the blankets." You spread the blanket out on the bed then glance over at Wilson as he leans against the doorway.

"Have you considered consulting psychology yet?" he asks, running his hand over his hair. "She's wearing you both down."

"I can take care of her," you answer firmly, pulling the blankets back enough that you can climb in bed and snuggle under them. Supporting yourself with your arm, you reach over Cameron and make sure the Pedialyte is within her reach in case she gets thirsty and the paper can is near the bed in case her stomach feels upset again like it had been all day. "I'm a doctor."

"You're not a psychologist," Wilson answers, shaking his head. "She needs someone specialized to help in this situation. You can still take care of her, but she needs-"

"Just-" you cut him off, about to snap. Cameron starting to stir again settles you down and you lower yourself to your side, gathering her frail body in your arms. "We need to sleep," you whisper, feeling awkward with him standing there staring at the two of you.

He nods slowly. "She needs to see someone who knows how to help her get through this," he whispers back then turns and slowly walked out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

Exhaling, you close your eyes and nuzzle your face against Cameron's cheek. Protectively, you snake one of your legs over her legs. "I'll take care of you," you whisper, your voice feeling slightly caught in your throat. The idea Cameron may leave if she no longer needs you briefly crosses your mind, but you chock it off to exhaustion and stop thinking about it.

xxxxx

It's not one of Cameron's nightmares that wakes you up tonight. Instead of screaming, it's coughing. The coughing turns to gagging as you're still processing waking up. "Allie," you murmur, stretching your arm out toward her side of the bed. She's sitting up and you slide your hand up over her shirt, rubbing small circles on her back. "Take a drink."

She reaches behind her back and grabs your hand, squeezing it. "Re-" she manages before the gagging turns to retching.

"Shit," you hiss under your breath. Before you can sit up and help her, it's all down her front. Her cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson and the tears immediately begin rolling. "Shhh. Shhh. Shhh." You're immediately wide awake and gathering her in your arms, unfazed by the vomit. "Not a big deal, Sweetheart, not a big deal."

She tries to make words, but her breath is hitching in her throat and throwing off any attempt at talking.

"Allison?" You rest your hand against her cheek, propping her up straight with your injured arm. "Allison, if you had a bad dream, it wasn't real. You need to breathe before you hyperventilate. Allie?"

Your attempts are futile. "Okay," you murmur, shifting so you can cradle her. At one point in time, you would've flown into doctor mode, but now you're in comfort mode. It's beginning to not even feel awkward anymore. She slumps over in defeat, tucking her face against your chest and balling the fabric of your nightgown up in her fists. Sliding your fingers into her hair, you situate yourself against the backboard of the bed. "I'll fix it," you promise, even though at this point, you're not even sure what you're trying to fix. "I'll fix it." The only thing you know is, truthfully, you can't fix anything.


	38. Chapter 38

**Night: **I hope things get better for you also. If you ever need to talk, my AIM is listed on my profile.  
**Alexis: **Nope. Def haven't abandoned this story. It's my baby.  
**Mm: **I love vulnerable!Remy...prolly 'cause it's so rare. Thanks!  
**Esuedros: **Thanks! ...not gonna answer that question. And feel free to AIM me; my sn is listed on my profile.  
**ILessThree:** My stories seem to make people bipolar. xD "I'm Happy!" "...now I'm saaaad!" "Oh, wait, happy!" Paha.  
**Charmed:** Thanks so much!  
**Shan:** Thank you!  
**Miralinda: **She'll get "better". She has to for the baby.  
**Sigiambra:** Thank you!  
**W.S.C.:** Thanks!  
**CJ4Eva:** No answer to that question. Thanks!  
**Miyuve:** Ooh, there is so much I wanna say to this review...but I will refrain and leave you all in suspense as to what I want to say!  
**Kay: **Yeah...my heart breaks writing this story.

Once again, this chapter is short. This is going to be the last short chapter though. I have decided to end this story. I know, I know, you're all sad. I base my writing off of experiences in real life though, and so I will end this similarly to something that has recently happened to me. The quick ending is not a cop-out. I write to logic things out for myself, and this is the story I'm currently using for that. This is NOT that last chapter though!  
There will be two more chapters (a different POV that you'll find out next chapt, and Remy's POV) and then a short epilogue (Cameron's POV). So, please, review these last few chapters. I've worked hard on this story and it's close to my heart, and hopefully to some of my readers' hearts also.  
I have the last chapters planned out 99%, so hopefully I won't make you wait long for them. I actually plan on starting the next chapter tonight.

* * *

**Cameron's POV:**

The door slams in another room.

You slowly open your eyes and squint against the light glaring in through the window blinds. Groaning softly, you roll onto your side and pulled your knees up toward your chest. The soiled blankets from the previous night are stuffed into the hamper, and a draft is chilling you to the bone. You scoot back toward the center of the bed and attempt to press against Remy, but all you manage to feel is air. Frowning, you roll onto your back again and glance to the side to notice she's gone.

You can't find a clock in the room, so God only knows what time it is. She might have decided to go to work, or run back to her apartment to get a few things. Exhaling through your mouth, you scrub at your eyes and slowly push yourself up into a sitting position. Despite that your stomach is still queasy, it's not as bad as it was before. The trace of pancakes and possibly some other breakfast foods wafting through the air at least don't make it worse.

You swing your feet over the side of the bed then inch forward enough so they're resting against the cool carpet. The mirror against the armoire frightens you immediately because you barely recognize the person staring back at you. Your face contrasts almost white against your dark hair and the bags under your eyes, and you're practically drowning in one of Remy's hoodies and a pair of scrub pants. You slowly lift your hand and touch your cheeks with your fingertips to make sure it's really you. It is.

"Oh, good, you're awake."

You snap your head up and look at the door. "Yeah," you answer Wilson with a slight nod.

"I made breakfast," he said, the corners of his lips turning upward but not quite reaching a smile. "I hope you're hungry."

"Where's Remy?" you ask as you stand, hoping to avoid talking about whether or not you're hungry. Eating is mandatory, so you're going to have to do it, but that doesn't mean you really want to. You glance around the room and absently smooth out the wrinkles in your shirt as you wait for him to answer.

"Out," he replied after what seems like an eternity. He nods for you to follow him and begins to make his way from the room.

"At work?" you inquire, dragging your feet as you trail after him. You notice Batman in the hall playing with his tail, but just assume he had slept with Wilson last night. Squatting down, you briefly pat his head then straighten up again and follow Wilson into the kitchen.

He shakes his head and pulled two plates down from a cupboard. "She went to pick up a few things at her apartment." He turns and offers you a plate.

"Oh." You tentatively take the plate from him and look it over, pretending to examine the design along the rim. "When is she coming back?" Swallowing thickly, you try to ignore how clingy you sound. It's really none of your business everywhere she goes or how long she'll be there, but you feel like you've developed an 'out of sight, out of mind' kind of thing with her. When she's around, she's real and you're safe. What if when she isn't around, you're not safe? You quickly remind yourself there's nothing to be afraid of anymore, and that you have Wilson around.

"She didn't say." He dishes a few pancakes and some eggs and bacon onto his plate then motions with his fork for you to do the same.

"Huh." You tentatively step forward and take a smaller pancake and some eggs with a fork you picked up off the counter. "Well, she shouldn't be too long." You put your plate down on the table then take a seat.

"She might stop by the hospital," Wilson sputters, dropping his fork on the table beside his plate. He reaches his hand out and catches it before it hits the floor.

A sense of unease settles over you and you glance up at him as you poke at your eggs. "Are you…lying to me?" you ask, trying to meet his eyes. He sits down and shovels a forkful of eggs into his mouth. "Wilson?" You drop your fork and fold your arms across your chest.

"Everything is fine," he answers, eying your fork. "Just eat. She'll be back in a few hours." He smiles, but it looks forced.

You pick your fork up again and slowly take a small bite of your pancake. "You know something," you mumble between chewing and swallowing. "Was that her leaving before I woke up? When the door shut loudly?"

"She'll be back in a few hours," he repeats, focusing on his food.

You want to keep questioning him, but you're already sick of being treated like a little kid whose mother just left them at daycare. Awkward silence settles over the two of you and you rest your elbow on the table and your head against your hand, continuing to pick at your food. Something doesn't feel right, but there's nothing you can do about it until Wilson decides to talk or Remy comes back.


	39. Chapter 39

**Alexis: **Thank ya!  
**Charmed: **Fortunately, this chapter is longer. Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.  
**Night: **See above response. xD Thank you. I hope everything is well for you also!  
**Mm: **Well, now you'll find out.  
**Ryan: **We haven't talked in awhile. -sadness- Don't be confused! This chapt should less /some/ confusion.  
**W.S.C.: **You'll find out in this chapt.  
**Amazon: **I felt as though I should use your name, but typed that instead. Pft. Anyway! Wilson has adorable issues. It's not his fault. Don't judge him. xD I'm not very much into "fairytales" anymore. They get my hopes up and then send them crashing down. So if I write...I should keep it realistic for my own sake. It made seeense! xP  
**Crazy: **Thank you so much. It was definitely hard to write. Sometimes I look back at it and think "a monkey could write that", but it was very much a challenge. It was hard making the emotions realistic because I have BPD and how I feel is often perceived as insane; it's great to know I could take those feelings and make them believable in 2 characters. It was fun and totally worth it though. I'm beyond glad I decided to continue this story a year ago.  
**CJ: **I hope all of your questions get answered. I'm a LOST fan, so answering people's questions tends to be the last thing on my mind!  
**Sgiambra: **Here's the update!  
**Esuedros: **Yup. I'll be able to wrap this up in 2 more chapters. 3 more at the most, depending on whether the characters obey or argue with me.  
**Bigblusky: **A lot is happening. -pokes chapter and smiles-  
**Miralinda: **This chapter shows where Remy went. You'll find out why next chapter.  
**Ilessthree: **I almost typed, "Ilesstree". -fail- Batman is a chowchow. His description is in whatever chapt they first got him, I think.

Thanks to **Vanamo** for beta-ing this chapter for me! It definitely meant a lot!

Don'tKillMe

* * *

**Rebecca's POV:**

You're doing it again. You know that feeling you get when you're nostalgic for people you know you're probably never going to see again? That's you, all the time. Every time you've passed her door over the past several hours, which is more times than you'd like to admit, you find yourself lost in thought about her. She's really none of your concern. The only memories you really have are that of seemingly meaningless sex.

Shaking your hair away from your face, you crank up Katy Perry's ET on your iPod to distract yourself and continue down the empty hall, stopping a few feet from your apartment door to scoop up the morning newspaper. The cover story about potholes causing traffics jams is enough for you to at least pretend you're distracted. You straighten up and fumble for your doorknob but only manage to grasp at air.

Grunting in frustration, you lift your eyes to where the handle should be but find your door wide open. "Great," you murmur, tossing the newspaper back down on the floor. Cocking your head to the side, you attempt to peer into your apartment but your hair continuously falls in front of your face. As if there hadn't been enough break-ins lately, what with whoever-the-hell getting into Remy's apartment and all that. Sighing, you grab an umbrella from beside the door and slowly make your way inside.

The kitchen and living room look empty. Sinking your front teeth nervously into the peppermint gum in your mouth, you tread toward the bedroom as silently as possible, dragging your feet across the carpeted floor. Sure, you could scare the standard person with your strong sense of self and sharp wit, but you had a feeling that didn't work quite as well on potential robbers or murderers. Then again, neither did umbrellas. You twist your sweaty palms around the handle and stop outside your bedroom door.

You're not sure whether to sigh in relief or frustration when you see the brunette standing hunched over your dresser. "Remy, what the hell are you doing? Looking for the next key to Wonderland?" you question, tossing the umbrella to the side.

"Go away," she murmurs. She has all of your apartment keys spread out across the top of the dresser, some of them even scattered on the floor.

Raising your hands so your palms are facing the ceiling, you huff in annoyed amusement. "This is my apartment," you remind her then pause. "This is my _building._"

"Mm." She waves her hand in the air as if she's trying to dismiss you then tosses another key off to the side.

"_Remy!_" you hiss, narrowing your eyes. "I had those organized!" In a few long strides, you make your way across the room and close the distance between your chest and her back then wrap your arms around her and grab her hands.

"Well, not very fucking well," she seethes, struggling to twist her hands free. "Or did you just throw my key out?" she chokes, trying to shove you away so she isn't squeezed between you and the dresser.

"Where did _that_ even come from?" You're not budging; you cross your arms around the front of her, keeping her pinned. There's a darkness all around her, clinging to her; her anger sends a chill up your spine. In a brief Psychology course you once took in college, you learned that anger usually came from another source - a more vulnerable feeling the beholder was afraid of showing, be it sadness or more often fear. It had been a statement you always disagreed with until you met Remy. Every negative feeling you've ever seen her have seemed to burst out in the form of anger. "If you broke into my apartment to find your key, why didn't you just break into your own apartment?"

"Because I need the spare key," she answers in a dangerously low voice, glaring down at your arms. Every muscle in her body is rigid and you can feel her breaths starting to come in short, shuddery gasps against your chest. "_Get. Off._"

"Well, your key is under my mattress," you answer, shaking your head and resting your chin against her shoulder, refusing to move your head even as she tries to jolt to the side. You had moved it there after the break-in, scared that someone might be able to get their hands on it. "Get off and then what? Wait for you to finish destroying yourself at your apartment then drag your pathetic, drunk ass back over here so you can try to fuck me?" The strength you're putting into this is already almost too much. Remy isn't exactly the easiest person in the world to hold still, and you have a feeling you're about to need to be an anchor for her emotionally as well.

Remy chokes on a loud laugh that shakes her entire body. "You're seriously going to try to act like you don't enjoy when I storm over here and let you have your way with me?" She tries to jerk away from you again but to no avail. "You sure enjoy whoring yourself around to whatever other girls will let you rip away all of their control!"

"Fuck you!" In one brief movement, you have her spun around and you shove her to the floor on impulse. She falls back against the nightstand with a crash then slouches down so she's supporting herself with her elbows. She digs her fingernails of her non-casted hand into the plush carpet and visibly grinds her teeth together. "I am not a whore!" Your voice goes up an octave and you swallow thickly, trying to remind yourself that you have an image to keep.

"You never denied it before, so why now?" she shoots back, her nostrils flaring. "You always _love_ to run around in your skimpy clothing, bragging about all the girls you've brought home! If you treat them all like you treat me in-"

"Why are you acting like this?" you cut her off, scared by her words. On one hand, she's nowhere near acting like herself right now. On the other, what if this is _really _what she thinks of you? You already lost her once. The worst that can happen is she storms out of your apartment and never comes back, so you bulldoze through all the brick walls you'd built up. "_You're_ the one who sleeps with all the girls, Remy!" Tears are burning your eyes, but even crushed, you refuse to let them fall. "I go out at night and I get drunk, but you never see me bringing back that many women to my apartment, do you? So maybe my clothes are a little- a lot revealing, but do you really think anyone would give me a second glance if they're not?"

Before she can answer, you turn and swipe your hand across your wall, grabbing at pictures of other women you've taken. "In case you haven't _noticed_, I don't look like this!" You kneel down to her level, holding up the pictures so she can see them. "The blue eyes? The straight, bleach blonde hair? I don't look like that." You toss the pictures on the floor and get to your feet again. "So maybe I let you come over here and I boss you around, but it keeps you coming back, doesn't it? Can you honestly say if I wasn't a cold-hearted bitch, you'd still come back? No. I'd be like every single one of your fucking one-night stands," you growl. "At least if you're with me, I know that you're really safe, because I'd never hurt you." You swallow and swipe at your eyes with the back of your hand. "I let _you_ use _me_, so don't treat me like _I'm_ the bad guy! I never did anything but try to give you what you want, and you left for someone who doesn't even care about you! So how about you just cut the shit and tell me why you broke into my apartment and are treating me like I did something to you! Maybe I'm a selfish bitch for letting you use me, but I am _not_ a whore, Remy."

Breaths hitching in your chest, you actually look at her and take in her appearance for the first time. Whatever you just blurted out must have had an effect, because her eyes are wide and filled with unshed tears. All the previous anger seems to have faded into exhaustion. Her arms are quivering like they're about to give out from under her at any second and the dark circles under her eyes are suddenly the only color she seems to have left in her face. She opens her mouth as if she's about to speak then quickly shuts it again and purses her lips together so they form a straight line, even though it doesn't stop her chin from quivering.

"_What?_" you murmur, dropping your voice to an exasperated whisper. You desperately try to prevent the tears brimming your eyes from overflowing, needing to keep in charge of yourself and the situation. "Just talk."

She slides her tongue across her lips and slowly pushes herself up, leaning heavily back against the nightstand. Exhaling a shaky breath, she slowly pulls her knees up slightly then crosses her arms tightly across her chest. "It's too much." She furiously shakes her head and clamps her eyes shut, moving her hands to her face then dragging her nails down her cheeks. She sobs on an inhale then tries to hide it by thumping her elbow back against stand. "I can't…" She holds her breath as her chest attempts to heave with another cry. "I can't…be what she n-needs."

You glance up toward the ceiling and rub your face for a moment before barely managing to look at her again and watch her try to keep herself from shattering. Nothing in your life ever really trained you to deal with a situation like this. At the first sign of crying, you were usually the first one out the nearest exit. It was nowhere in your nature to be a comforter, unless it came through allowing you to be sadistic in bed. "What do _you_ need?" The words slip out so easily. You lower yourself to your knees and hover your hands a few inches away from her, nervous to touch her.

"Nothing," she manages, shaking her head.

"Stop living in your fantasy world where you think you're a rock," you demand, trying to soften your tone. "If your needs were being met, you wouldn't be in my apartment, trying not to start bawling." So much for soft.

She scrubs hard at her face and starts tapping her foot. "I thought she'd start getting better," she mumbles, her voice cracking despite her obvious efforts to keep it level. "I thought she would-"

"I don't care about _her _or _her_ needs," you tell her. It's harsh, but it's true. "I don't even know her name. I care about _you. _What do _you_ need?"

"_Nothing_," she insists, stretching her hands out in front of her to emphasize the point. "I-I have to take care of her, but she won't eat and she can't sleep, and I don't know what I'm doing, and-"

You clench your jaw. "Who's taking care of you?" you ask, finally getting the courage to wrap your arms around her torso and pull her closer. It might be the exhaustion, but she doesn't fight it. She drops her legs and rests her hands on her lap, lulling her head against your shoulder. "Who makes sure you eat and sleep?"

She seems lost to your questions, her eyes glazing over as silent tears begin to roll. "I thought I could do it, y'know?" she chokes, every word seeming to follow some internal struggle of trying to preserve her pride. "I _promised_ I could do it. But she's not getting better, and now I have Wilson on my back, and…and I shouldn't be sc-" She cuts herself off and turns her head, hiding her tear streaked face against your shirt and the crook of her arm. "I need _out_."

You can barely fathom the guilt that came with needing out of a situation like that, or the fear she has to be holding in from the incident with the gun. Leaning your head back against the stand, you rest one of your hands on the back of her head. "You can't take care of someone when you can't even take care of yourself," you mutter, a bit frustrated she would care so much about someone that she would let herself get so exhausted and thin. Then again, you let your heart be repeatedly broken to take care of her whenever she needed someone, so maybe you were a hypocrite. "You need out," you agree, staring up at the ceiling. "It would be best for her too. She'll find someone who can help her."

She nods, but barely, her shoulders shaking with repressed sobs.

You know she wanted it to be her who could help; that much was obvious. You also doubt she would have thrown herself into a serious relationship unless she really loved who this other woman was, beyond her trauma. The worst kind of heartbreak was knowing what the relationship could have been had the other person not changed. Out of all the pain and frustration Remy had gone through in her life, you've never seen her cry, so if this wasn't heartbreak then you don't know what is. "I'm sorry," you breathe, biting back tears of sympathy. You thought you would be happy if you ever got a chance with her again, but it turns out her happiness matters more than your own. Her choked back tears are tearing at your insides. You tighten your grip on her, wanting to protect her from whatever choice she makes about the situation and the consequences that would come with it. "I'm so sorry."


	40. Chapter 40

**Charmed: **Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed Rebecca's POV.  
**Ryan: **Yeah. Last chapt was sad. I hope you enjoyed it though.  
**W.S.C.: **Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the POV change!  
**Nightlancer: **Thanks so much. I'm glad you're enjoying the story!  
**Mira: **I thought there were a lot of ways they could get better. It was hard to write these last few chapters with all the options I knew I had.  
**Serendipity: **Hope you enjoy!  
**Bleed: **Thank you so much. I was hoping that whatever choice I made would work. I hope it works.  
**Bigblusky: **I think Rebecca is good for shedding light...or at least being blunt and removing unneeded emotions from the situation.  
**Sgiambra: **Hope you enjoy!  
**Esuedros: **No answer for that, since the answer is in this chapt.  
**Alex: **You're definitely making sense. Your reviews was one of my favorites and honestly a comment that will stick with me. Thank you for enjoying my story for what it is.  
**Ilessthree: **I'm glad you're starting to like Rebecca. Honestly, I didn't like her when I first started writing her...but...she has definitely grown on me.  
**Shan: **Thank you so much.  
**Kay: **Hope you enjoy this chapter.  
**31: **Thank you so much for all the reviews! They meant a lot to me! I hope that you enjoy this chapter.  
**Charmed (chapt 4): **Haha. Idk how many people got that reference. It made me laugh to write it though.  
**Smo: **I'm glad my story has touched you. I hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note: **I have decided this is the last chapter of SF. There were so many ways I could end this story and so many reasons why I could choose each one. I could have ended in a way similar to life events, how my readers wanted me to end it, or how I felt it needed to end. I eventually chose the third option. This story has been my baby and close to my heart for over a year now, and I decided that I needed to end it in a way that I would feel satisfied - as much as I appreciate all of you and still hope that you enjoy my choice. This story doesn't "go out with a bang" though. So, I'm sorry for those of you who were expecting a huge ending. I'm satisfied with how I ended it, and I hope that you have enjoyed this long, emotional ride.

* * *

**Remy's POV:**

It's at least an hour later when you finally convince yourself to sit up straight and wipe your face with the back of your hand. Your tears are spent and exhaustion is weighing you to the floor even more than gravity. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying. "I shouldn't have come here."

"What are you talking about?" Rebecca sits up too and rubs her lower back. "Don't be stupid. We're friends. Of course you should have."

Your pride feels like it's been ripped from you, your strong façade nowhere to be seen. You're glad the meltdown happened here though, and not with Cameron around. "I don't want out," you whisper, shaking your head. Part of you does want out though, more than anything. It's a voice screaming in the back of your head that this is all too much; you're not ready to grow up and be there for someone who needs you. Even worse, it's telling you you're not good enough - especially compared to Wilson. But it's not you struggling, it's Thirteen, the person you've spent how long pretending to be now.

Thirteen doesn't know what she's doing. She doesn't know how to take care of herself, nor does she know how to have a long-lasting relationship with someone who needs care also. She needs the sex, the booze, the drugs, the downward spiral of self-destruction that will kill her before her disease does. Thirteen wants out because Thirteen is helpless and worthless, pretending to be strong.

But Allison doesn't call you Thirteen, does she?

_I don't want to be the Thirteen nobody ever sees. I don't want to even be Thirteen now. I don't want to be focused on being distant or trying to put up walls that Cameron will never be able to get past. I want to be Remy._

It feels like years ago, you sat there holding her in the shower, feeling disgusted with yourself because you could feel Thirteen slipping away. It wasn't a slow or easy process, and it wasn't going to get easier any time soon. It felt like Allison had taken a chisel to your hard walls and no one was offering you any painkillers. But you were both going through days without Paracetamol, weren't you?

"How many times are you going to change your mind?" Rebecca asks. She scoots so you're no longer between her legs and sits Indian-style, her hands rested on her knees. There's no selfish disappointment etched on her face nor is there annoyance, like you expected there to be. "You can't do that to someone; want out one minute then in the next."

"I know," you answer, your voice choked. Not long ago, you had been crying because you were trying to convince yourself to end what you had with Cameron. Now you're on the verge of tears because the thought of waking up every morning for the rest of your life without her feels worse than death. "I know." It makes as little sense to you as it probably does to Rebecca, the constant debate in your mind. Thirteen vs. Remy.

You scrub at your face, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"You need to do some serious thinking, Remy," Rebecca states sternly. It makes you feel like a child being scolded, but you've been desperately trying to hold it all together. "And, you know, maybe you should try communicating with people. She may be hurting, but she's not stupid. You have every right to be struggling too. It's also not that hard to ring me up and ask me to grab a cup of coffee with you so you can talk."

"I know," you whisper. How many times have you repeated that now? Thirteen would have been here rolling her eyes with a snippy remark, but you want to make this work. You sniffle and wipe at your nose then lift your head, managing a slight smile. "Do you want to grab a cup of coffee with me?"

"I dunno," she answers, turning to the side then sprawling out on her back. She dramatically drapes her arm over her face.

"Get up," you reply, realizing she's just trying to get a rise out of you to get you back to normal. Rolling your eyes, you lean forward and smack her hard on the shoulder.

"Ow!" she exclaims, rubbing where you hit. She lurches forward and tries to hit you back, but you're already scrambling to your feet. "You're going to get it," she warns, struggling to get up.

You glance around as if to make sure no one is watching then stick your tongue out at her before darting into the bathroom and locking the door to clean yourself up so the two of you can go out.

xxxxx

"We've been through more together than I've been through with anyone in my life," you admit quietly. Up until now, you've dealt with everyone alone. No one else's problems had become your own, and your own problems were no one else's. Even when your mother had gotten sick and died, there was no one (not even your family) that you had shared your grief with. They never grieved in front of you either, because you just pretended you simply didn't care she was gone. "Sometimes I think some of her issues are my fault."

"Why would you think that?" Rebecca stops in front of a park bench and slowly sits down. She tilts her Starbucks cup up to her lips and sips her coffee, watching you out of the corner of her eye.

You take a seat beside her, close enough so your shoulders are touching. The wind sends a chill up your spine so you balance your coffee between your legs as you struggle to pull your jacket tighter around you. "I keep pushing and pulling her." You grab your coffee again and take a few small swallows just for the warmth it provides. "It seems like she's okay and then I somehow manages to fuck it all up again."

"She's going through a lot. There's going to be a lot of switching between feeling better and feeling like shit." Leaning back against the bench, she drapes an arm around your shoulders. "You just have to do the best you can and _talk _to her."

The talking part seems the hardest. It's hard to fathom you're even sitting here now, talking about this with Rebecca. You feel like so much less of a burden and more of a stronger person when you just bottle it all up. Of course the stress manages to find its way out, but somehow self-destruction gives you an illusion of control that talking about your feelings does not. "I don't know if I can handle it." You shift around under her embrace before leaning back. She's much more touchy-feely with her friends than you are, but it's something you've gotten used to. "If I keep wanting out…"

"You know what I think about wanting out of relationships?" Rebecca asks.

"No," you answer, shaking your head as the wind blows your hair in your face. "But I have a feeling you're about to tell me."

"I think for some people wanting to be with someone twenty-four seven and never wanting an escape is bullshit," she tells you. "Someone better comes along or something happens, and you honestly don't want to be there anymore. There's those lucky people who can't get enough of each other, and then there's people like us who have doubts." She pauses. "Do you love her, Remy?"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation.

"Then every day you don't doubt how much you want to spend the rest of your life with her should be worth needing to suck up the small moment you do." Rebecca turns to the side slightly to face you. "Seal the deal with this one, Remy."

Your eyes widen to the size of silver dollars. "You're kidding, right?" What she said about doubts makes sense, but there's still so much the two of you need to work through. "We're…we're not ready for that…"

"Not _now_," she tells you, rolling her eyes. "Go home and talk to her. Find her a therapist; find _yourself_ a therapist. Then five months from now when everything is looking up for good, buy a ring and keep her."

There's a knot forming in the back of your throat, making it hard to speak. "Just awhile ago, you were telling me I needed out," you whisper.

"I was agreeing with your decision," she corrects you. "You thought that was what was best for you, and I want what's best for you."

"What about you?" You bite down on your lower lip and glance at your lap. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how much she likes you.

"I can live with just being your best friend," she answers after a moment. "With some conditions anyway," she adds.

"Conditions?" you ask, shooting her a look.

"I won't babysit your Tasmanian devil dog," she states. "I expect you to still storm angrily into my apartment and piss me off, you owe me coffee if I have to turn you down if you want drugs and sex, and I expect you to pay rent as long as your shit is still in my apartment building."

"Of course," you murmur, rolling your eyes. You give her an awkward one-armed hug before slowly getting to your feet. "Will you take me home?"

"Of course." She smiles and also stands, playfully elbowing your side before the two of you head back to her car.

xxxxx

You push the unlocked door to Wilson's apartment open and step inside with Rebecca close behind you. A suitcase is in the middle of the living room and you quickly recognize your sweatshirt that Allison loves to wear resting on top of it. Your heart drops and you stand frozen to your spot, barely lifting your eyes to glance at Wilson and Cameron.

Wilson is sitting on the chair. He lowers his book to the table beside him when you walk in then gets to his feet.

Allison is laying on the couch, repetitively stroking Batman's back. She glances over at you when you walk in, not moving but not shifting her gaze away from you either. It looks like she's been crying for awhile and is putting up quite a fight not to do so again the moment she sees you.

"Are you kicking me out?" The assumption is like a kick in the gut.

"We thought you weren't coming back," Allison answers in a cracking voice before Wilson does. "I packed your stuff to save you the trouble."

"Can you leave?" you ask, glancing at Wilson and then Rebecca.

Wilson looks hesitant then makes his way over to the door. He stares at Rebecca for a moment before a look of realization that he's seen her before appears in his eyes. "Coffee?" he asks.

Rebecca glances around then tosses her empty coffee cup into a nearby wastepaper can. "Yup," she answers then turns and walks away, Wilson hot on her heels.

"Allie…" You shut the door behind them and take a few steps forward.

Allison lifts up Batman and puts him on the floor before slowly sitting up. "It's okay," she whispers, looking anywhere but at you now. She runs her fingers through her tangled hair, brushing it away from her face. "I understand, I really do." She clenches her jaw and grinds her teeth together.

"No, Allie, you don't." You walk across the room and kneel in front of the couch, taking one of her hands in your own. You kiss her knuckles, keeping them against your lips as you peer up at her. "Baby, I'm not leaving you."

Her despair turns to confusion and she finally brings herself to look you in the eye. "What?" she whispers. "Wilson said…"

"Wilson was wrong," you tell her. You let go of her hand and get to your feet again. "We just have a lot of stuff we need to work out. We both need to find someone to talk to, someone who knows what they're doing."

She still looks in shock that your not leaving. "Yeah," she barely manages before reaching her arms out to embrace you.

You crawl up onto the couch, kneeling on her lap so your knees are on either side of her. "We need terms and conditions, Allie," you state, draping your arms around her neck. "Eating, sleeping, working…"

"Remy," she cuts you off hesitantly, tentatively resting her hands on your waist.

You stop talking, feeling your heart drop as you wait for the argument that's going to end it all.

She rubs the hem of your shirt between her fingers for a moment before speaking up again. "What if you don't want me after all of this?" She tilts her head down, finding a spot on the floor to stare at. "What if we do manage to work this out and I wake up one morning and you're not here again?"

"I will be," you reply, placing two fingers under her chin and tilting her head up so she's looking at you again. "I'm here now, and if we can work at this, I'm still going to be here five years from now providing you still want me to be."

She lifts her hands to your face and brushes her thumbs across your cheeks. "It'll get better this time," she says earnestly. "I'm promise us, and I won't break that promise to you or myself."

Exhaling, you shake your head. "Allison, don't make promises to-"

"I promise you," she repeats firmly.

It takes a moment for you to convince yourself to believe her. She's not the promise-breaking type, quite the opposite really. "I promise too," you reply finally. You hesitate before attempting to speak again. "Allison, can I k-"

Her lips pressing against yours cut you off. Your eyes flutter shut and the two of you simultaneously draw each other closer. It's a tender moment that just begins the final fight for your relationship, but the worry slowly begins to fall away. Every moment you don't doubt is worth every moment that Thirteen does. But you're not just Thirteen anymore, you're -

"I love you, Remy," Allison say softly, pulling back.

The small smile tugging at the corners of her lips is enough to make you smile too. "I love you too, Allie," you respond. You glance at her stomach then speak to the baby inside fondly. "I love you too."

Batman leaps onto the couch and squirms his way between you. He stares for a moment before tilting his head back and letting out a long drawn out howl.

You and Allison both roll your eyes and hold back from laughing, repeating in unison, "…and we love you too, Batman."

Not content with the attention, Batman continues squirming then nips at your elbow expectantly.

"Dog, you are the devil," you state, scooping him up so he's sitting on Allison's shoulder with his front paws resting on your own shoulder. He begins licking your face and nuzzling his cold nose against your cheek. Feigning displeasure only lasts for a fraction of a second before the warmth enveloping your entire being becomes too much. Your girlfriend, your baby, and your dog are all wrapped in your arms; a family you could have never seen yourself having.

This is your family. Even with the struggles and inconveniences, these are the people you don't want to trade it all in for. New days are coming. You can feel it.

* * *

**That's it, Guys. It's probably not the big ending you wanted, but that's it. This story has been an amazing, emotional experience and I'm so happy I decided to continue it and not just leave it a one-shot. Now, please hit the review button on your way out then make your way over to my new story 'Run'. It's not Cadley (not that I've stopped writing Cadley), but I promise not to disappoint you if you like how I write!**


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